His Name Was Mark

Every time I saw him, a smile brightened his face. Even the times he cried, which were many, the tears were always accompanied with his goofy grin. Mark Landry, or as we all called him, Marky Mark, was truly, one-of-a-kind.

My friend Tyler and I found out Mark was hospitalized 9 days after he was admitted to the ICU. The ICU is a place I'm sure I've had nightmares about, and yet if one of our friends is there, I go. I ignore the sick, anxious groan in the pit of my stomach, and I know I have to be there. The thoughts of no one showing up haunts me.

I walked in, beeps and buzzers and horns. None of the medical staff seemed alarmed and yet, that voice in my head that tells me to run from danger and anything remotely uncomfortable, was doing just that.

Mark was there with tubes coming out of multiple places on his petit, seemingly fragile body. I must say, he actually falls under the "small, but mighty" category to anyone that knew him. He was tough and no matter what was thrown at him in this life, he just kept going.

But here he was, in a coma and we had no idea what had happened. I thought for sure when I walked in we would be told his liver finally took it's last swim with alcohol. He was never kind to that guy at all. But wildly, to our surprise and dismay, that wasn't the case at all.

We found out over the next week or so, our friend was found on a bench, partially responsive, and he had suffered a massive stroke. The doctor we spoke to at one point said they called them "devastating strokes". Great.

Tyler and I were told they had no idea how long he was there before he was noticed and someone called for help, realizing he was in distress.

Immediate surgery was performed trying to release pressure and fluid from his brain. We were told they were surprised he survived the surgery. Mighty, again, that's the only way I can explain Mark.

He was a guy you wanted to talk to and laugh with once you knew him. He was child-like in ways, and didn't mind receiving love and approval. He was also a drinker and never, to my knowledge, hid the fact of how much he loved beer. For me, and I'm sure everyone else, he fell under the category of chronic drinker.

I'm not sure how many times he was asked about sobriety, but he never seemed too serious about it, ever. We worried about his safety, his comfort, his state of mind, and yet this man, deemed helpless by the world, navigated that same world for 60 years.

Mark had a birthday over his 17 days in the ICU. A true miracle. He made 60 whole years, many of those without a stable place to lay his head at night.

The addiction, the homelessness, he was not those things. He was Mark. He was so much more than a label, a disease, a wanderer. But just as importantly, I must tell the whole story. The ugliness, that lives in all of us and manifests in a million different ways.

We, meaning all those who tried to help him, were nice additions to the journey, but he never needed us to show up. He appreciated it, but it wasn't needed. He survived just fine on his own, maybe by the grace of God only.

My friend Jasmine and I started doing street outreach together in the summer of 2016. Mark was one of the first guys we met in a camp just behind Sweet Peppers Deli. He would talk to us for a while and when we asked why he didn't have a tent, he would immediately tear up. The tears flowed and he would tell us some wild story about someone stealing his tent. This happened 3 or 4 times before Jasmine and I realized he was trading the tents we gave him, at totally different times, for beer.

He would trade the tent and sleep on the ground on cardboard. He was perfectly content with that decision every time. When he realized we had caught on to what he was doing, he laughed and laughed.

Jasmine and I were exchanging stories the day before he passed and she talked about how many watches and radios she bought for him. He loved a radio. All of those ended up lost or stolen or maybe traded as well. What can we say, it was hard to tell him no. He had his demons, but he was a kind, fragile soul. We talked about how we were going to miss him disappearing for weeks and months at a time and then, seemingly out of nowhere, there he was.

He had no interest in working a program, rehab, housing or otherwise. I think some people thought they were going to "save him" but he didn't need saving. He just needed love. He needed to know that people could meet him where he was and that was enough.

Mark lived on his own terms. He died on his own terms. It was difficult to witness at times but maybe that has to do more with us than him.

He always told us he was the last of his family. He spoke of a sister that never should have died before him. He spoke of a family that was gone and he wondered why he had lived.

Those 17 days in the hospital, they could find no one. No emergency contact. No long lost cousin. Just a few folks in this community that were lucky enough to cross his path and call him friend.

Friday, July 2, 2021 our friend, Mark Landry officially left this life. My belief is that he had probably left much sooner. We were visiting the ICU and he was dancing in a brand new body, with his brand new teeth, he always made a point to talk about how "bad' they were, with those he had missed for so long.

That's the image I kept with me those days in the ICU. I needed that image of a healthy, sober, happy Marky, Mark. I still need it.

It will never get easier to say goodbye to our friends. I'm thankful for every conversation, every memory, and every moment with Mark he was willing to share.

Dance on, friend. We'll be seeing you.