I remember the first time I met Mark, I was mesmerized by how much he managed to smile.
OK, I was also mesmerized by how big he looked, but it was his smile that really caught my attention. I suppose normally I’d be a little concerned if I saw someone with an ear-to-ear grin that never seemed to vanish, but somehow it fit him so well.
He was one of the first people I’d ever met from the gainer scene, and it was refreshing to see someone who shared my kink and yet seemed so effortlessly happy.
At the very first Expansion back in 2007, Mark was like the momma bear to the whole event: Friendly to everyone, making every attendee—extrovert and introvert, fat and thin—feel welcome and heard. He was the first person you’d want on hand if an argument broke out, because you knew that within minutes he’d have everyone snacking on sandwiches and forgetting what even got them riled up in the first place.
Mark was a nurturer and anyone who knew him knew that he deeply cared for those around him. And he let you know it with that radiant grin.
The last time I saw him was at the D.C. GrommOff a few months ago. He was preparing for a particularly tough bone marrow transplant and facing a long and painful recovery. It was a dark road he’d been down many times before. But you wouldn’t know any of it from his demeanor. Mark didn’t want you to worry about him, and so he’d ask how you were doing and what you were up to. He wanted others to be happy, not concerned.
That was just the kind of guy he was.
Mark didn’t have the easiest life and dealt with more than his fair share of pain and loss, particularly in more recent years. He lived through the AIDS pandemic and lost many good friends and even his partner. But despite it all, he survived. Not just survived—he thrived. Because in all the years I knew him—through ups and downs, good days and bad—I never did see him without that smile.
I’ll miss him so much.
He was one of the first people I’d ever met from the gainer scene, and it was refreshing to see someone who shared my kink and yet seemed so effortlessly happy.
At the very first Expansion back in 2007, Mark was like the momma bear to the whole event: Friendly to everyone, making every attendee—extrovert and introvert, fat and thin—feel welcome and heard. He was the first person you’d want on hand if an argument broke out, because you knew that within minutes he’d have everyone snacking on sandwiches and forgetting what even got them riled up in the first place.
Mark was a nurturer and anyone who knew him knew that he deeply cared for those around him. And he let you know it with that radiant grin.
The last time I saw him was at the D.C. GrommOff a few months ago. He was preparing for a particularly tough bone marrow transplant and facing a long and painful recovery. It was a dark road he’d been down many times before. But you wouldn’t know any of it from his demeanor. Mark didn’t want you to worry about him, and so he’d ask how you were doing and what you were up to. He wanted others to be happy, not concerned.
That was just the kind of guy he was.
Mark didn’t have the easiest life and dealt with more than his fair share of pain and loss, particularly in more recent years. He lived through the AIDS pandemic and lost many good friends and even his partner. But despite it all, he survived. Not just survived—he thrived. Because in all the years I knew him—through ups and downs, good days and bad—I never did see him without that smile.
I’ll miss him so much.
Very nicely done Jed -You are so right, he ALWAYS smiled and seemed so much more concerned with your thoughts and how your day was. Smiling at all times, and making sure fun was part of your time with him.
ReplyDeleteI got to meet him through the expansion but he was always around with something positive to add to whatever conversation he was part of.
This community has lost a great great person and he will be missed.
Gary (Chubbysportsbear)