Mark W. Holt's Journey

6 years ago today (originally written 3/10)

I remember exacly where I was on this day, six years ago.....

The phone rang in a shrill tone on the wall in my kitchen. I put down the dish I was washing and stepped over to answer it. It was my sister calling on her way home from a consult with the doctor. Anxiously awaiting the results of the lymphocyte byopsy, Mark and Metra went to the office to find out if the lump on Mark's left shoulder was cancerous. The voice on the other end of the phone call had a fake optimism to it. Metra said in a sad but sing song tone, "Mark has cancer." My mind could not process this information and I stood there, phone to my ear, shocked.
What would we do and what did this information mean? I didn't know then that it was the beginning of a transformation.
Not just for Mark, but for those who knew him.
The ding of the bell signaled that the battle was on. It was round one of Mark and Metra's fight against Hodgkins.
In fact, I remember that the very first fight words were uttered by my sister that day as she informed me that if he had to have cancer, he suffered though the most curable form and there were lots of treatment options for him. She had officially put her gloves on and laced up as if to say, "bring it ON!" It was on that day, March 10 that my sister started a log stream of optimism, hope, faith, and down-right scrapping to enable her and Mark to battle this illness.

As I listened to her on the phone, and wholeheartedly bought into her optimism, I started to slowly feel better despite the news. On that day, and the many subsequent days when Mark and Metra received news about the progression of Mark's disease, Metra stayed positive and didn't show an ounce of fear.
At least, not to the naked eye.

It was today, the third month in the millenium, when a twenty three year old newly engaged girl broke the news to her soon-to-be husband that his neck/shoulder lumps were, indeed cancerous.
Today marks six years of fighting, struggling, waiting, hoping and praying. Six years of transformation of one man from a husky, 200 lb strong guy with tons of dark hair and thick eyebrows, to a man who bearly weighed over 120 when he died and looked more like the image of Christ than any artist's rendition.

Today is the day.

It was one of those days six years ago when I happen to absorb every detail of the conversation Metra and I held over the phone when the news first broke. I remember the sound of her voice when she finally told me. It was a conversation to remember.

Throughout the six year war, I've had other converstions to remember. One, in particular with Mark that now makes me think.....

I remember traveling with Mark, Metra, Brett, Jeff and the kids to Vancouver, Canada to visit my iranian aunts. Our trip had the occasional ups and downs and I don't think any of us spoke to one another for at least a month after we got back but, it was fun. I remember that we all went to a bar in the trendy part of downtown West Vancouver and had a few drinks, a few outbursts of laughter, and an occasional dance or two. While we were at the "Blue Sky Bar," A song came on and Mark started acting like a dork and singing it. As often happened in our relationship, I took any opportunity to make fun of Mark and this time was no different. After Mark's mind went blank thinking up a whitty come back, we soon went from talk of teasing each other to talk of Angels (as conversations go when you've had a few martini's).

As I was listening to Mark through the thump of the beating music, he described for me what he wanted to do if he ever left this earth because of his illness. He told me that he wanted to serve as one of God's warring angels and fight evil and the depths of hell. He wanted to be like St. Michael the archangel and fly around making evil beings quake when they see him coming. He wanted to be a defender, a guardian, a champion of his beliefs. He told me this in such a manner that I was almost convinced that he saw into the future and knew his destiny. His eyes lit up when he mentioned Michael the archangel and his hand motions became more animated. As I listened, part of me wanted to slap him and tell him to shut up, he wouldn't die and he would never have a need to be Michael, and part of me shared in his excitement. Metra, Brett, and Jeff were oblivious to our topic, their conversation surrounding who would buy the next drink. Well, maybe JEFF wasn't worried about who would buy the next drink....(although I hear he likes that apple cider)... Mark went on for quite awhile that night about being Michael and even talked to me about it for days after the bar.Now, looking back, I wonder if Michael has a partner who is all too happy to be a warrior in the heavens. Sometimes, I wonder if Mark is in the middle east, fighting where the battle is fierce and religious tension tight. I think about the excitement in his eyes when he talked about being able to fight in a battle that he was certain he would win. I don't really know if Mark is fighting right now, but I do know that since Mark died, things have been happening that make me think that perhaps, someone is watching out from the heavens. Take my son, for example. After months and months of therapy with little progress, since December 19th at around 6:00 p.m. my son has been spouting more words than ever despite his recent diagnosis of brain damage. I think that Reagan has an unseen (by human eyes) therapist that works with him daily after waging war against all things evil. There have been several instances like this where something unexplainable happens that relates to Mark. It leads me to believe that right now, there is a new warrior angel- his name is Mark- and he watches over all of us. He has probably visited his sisters quite a bit, making sure that no one harms them. In fact, his conversation to me that night in the bar assured me that he would. Next, he floats over to his mom and dad, checks in, visits grandma and Brenda (so if Boo barks for some unknown reason and wags her tail, you'll know why...) and then makes his way to Metra where he fights to keep her safe. Then, he travels to the middle east to battle "principalities, and rulers of darkness" just like he described that night at the bar. If this is what Mark is doing, I have no doubt that he is happy, estatic, and when we see him again-

he will have wings.

posted by Catmaster @ 4:50 PM