ForeverMissed
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This memorial website was created in memory of Mark J. Sienkiewicz, Jr., 51, born on September 14, 1963 and passed away on August 15, 2015.

A memorial gathering took place on November 14th, 2015 at Carroll Baldwin Hall, 9035 Baltimore Street, Savage, MD 20763.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to:

The Mark and Carolyn Sienkiewicz Scholarship in Oboe
Patrick O'Neall
Director of Major Gifts
The Peabody Institute of the Johns Hopkins University
1 E. Mt Vernon Place
Baltimore, MD 21202

 


April 6
tomorrow,
and tomorrow,
and tomorrow,
… to the last syllable of recorded time;

you are gone.

nevertheless, our love endures, is unstoppable

my beautiful,
my sweet,
my beloved

August 15, 2022
August 15, 2022
i miss you, my love
everyone misses you

i could write a thousand pages about the hole that is in all of our lives without you here

can we take all of the words written by people in their loss?
all of the requiems,
and the music
and the poetry
and the centuries of beautiful artworks,
the white-knuckled knitting of the mourning,
the edifices erected to memories?
you know — everything?
and press it, squeeze it, distill it
to a single tear of loss?

can we?
i hope not

because that solitary tear would contain molecular bonds of such power that this planet would cease to be

and you would still be missed
by the stars
May 25, 2022
May 25, 2022
oh sweetie!
your favorite Prokofiev is on the radio right now
i can see you lighting up and dancing
May 24, 2022
May 24, 2022
We note the passing of time
By the memories we make.

A love as great as thine
Leaves behind a heart to break.

January 7, 2022
January 7, 2022
This is so wrong.
That you are not here.

I need to see your beautiful face and hear your sonorous voice.

I want to communicate things, but they aren’t things described by words, they are things expressed clearly with music. But I can’t record in this little space.

Yearning.
Always.
September 14, 2021
September 14, 2021
Another year gone by.
Another birth date anniversary to commemorate.
I wonder what you would think about all this. Not just the "big picture" Bizarro World stuff that has happened since you died. Small "stuff" like whether you'd be amused by our continuing to have conversations with you after you've gone ... or how we clean up our language online so that our posts don't get blocked, even though our usual conversations would make Carlin blush.
Well, we miss you.
September 14, 2021
September 14, 2021
You could have been 58 today. But you’re not. You’re still 51.

I try to look back at the year since your last birthday and imagine the life you and I might have lived. Lockdowns? Staying in? Oh, what heaven!!! Yes please. May we have some more?

Other than that bit of obvious, it’s hard to tell what we might have been up to, big-picture-wise.

But I feel sure it would have all been encapsulated and buoyed by our eternal love, and the joy that we found in one another. That love, that joy will never be extinguished, even after I am gone, for we built up an invisible store-house, not just in one another.

Now is when you would look at me and say, “What are you talking about?”
I would take your hand and say, “Trust me.”

And you would. For you love me, without reservation, still. As I do you.
September 14, 2021
September 14, 2021
We're thinking of you on your birthday, Mark. Thinking of Carolyn, too. You two were so lovely together.
September 14, 2021
September 14, 2021
On your birthday, I was thinking of the time you took us on a tour of a lifeboat in your back yard. So many fun times. I miss sharing silly things like that with you and your dear Carolyn.
August 15, 2021
August 15, 2021
There are no words sufficient to express how much I love you and miss your beautiful presence. My most precious, precious sweet.
August 15, 2021
August 15, 2021
Thinking of Mark's smarts and his deep love for Carolyn—and Arby’s.
November 25, 2020
November 25, 2020
The last software project that Mark worked on, right up until the day that he was too sick to work anymore, was the JWST Exposure Time Calculator (ETC). This is a web application that would be used by all astronomers who want to use the James Webb Space Telescope after its launch, to figure out how much observing time they should ask for in order to do their science.

Mark designed and partially implemented the server, and redesigned part of the web page, before he died in 2015. Since then, we have expanded the server and rewritten part of it, but his basic architecture remains intact.

Yesterday was the proposal deadline for the first year of observations with the Webb Space Telescope. All the astronomers in the world who hoped to be granted time on the Webb had to get their proposals in by 8pm EST on Tuesday Nov 24.

We saw unprecedented load - more than 30,000 calculations on the last day. And the system handled the load.

There were some problems in the last few days, for reasons we don't understand yet. Sometimes messages were backing up in the system instead of being processed until we intervened to fix it. But because of Mark's architecture, the effect of these anomalies was confined to just a few users, instead of slowing down the whole system for everyone.

Thank you, Mark. I so wish you were here to see it.

But the team raised a glass to you, in our post-deadline celebration.
November 8, 2020
November 8, 2020
I went to the park today. All the trees and I wept for you. Please come back.
August 15, 2020
August 15, 2020
Gary and I regularly treasure at least one tradition you left behind, Saturday afternoon champagne celebrations (for no particular reason) with Carolyn. In sense, when the three of us celebrate, you're there with us.
August 15, 2020
August 15, 2020
I can’t believe it’s been 5 years.
There’s so much we would have talked about.

The team members you never met all know who you are.

I miss you.
August 15, 2020
August 15, 2020
Its hard to believe its been five years since we've seen you. We miss you - your humor, your sage advice, your compassion. You're forever in our hearts. Paula & Rob
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Recent Tributes
April 6
tomorrow,
and tomorrow,
and tomorrow,
… to the last syllable of recorded time;

you are gone.

nevertheless, our love endures, is unstoppable

my beautiful,
my sweet,
my beloved

Recent stories

Such a kind man

August 15, 2023
One time when we were visiting Mark & Carolyn, I was really wound up about something totally inconsequential.  As I babbled on, I realized that Mark was listening with a completely rapt look on his face - and he engaged on this silly topic with me.  He was so smart, I would have thought I would have bored him to tears - and maybe I did - but he sure did make me feel special that day. 

Rocketship Pens

August 15, 2020
A few weeks after Mark’s diagnosis, my science fiction book group met at a bookstore one evening, and as usual, after the discussion was over, we all dispersed to browse the store. The store sold toys and gadgets as well as books, and I was browsing through them looking for some small thing that might make Mark smile.

I found a pack of three little pens shaped like rocket ships – not realistic ones from our space program, but more sleek ones out of the imagination of the science fiction stories we had both grown up on. I bought it that night, and brought it in to work with me the next morning to give to him in the office.

And it did make him smile. He loved those pens —  he loved that you could actually write with them, he loved that they could stand on their three fins. He used them every day at his desk to write notes or sketch out ideas on the 8 1/2 x 11 paper folded in half that he always used for such things, and I would often hear the pen’s click-click, click-click as he fidgeted with one while he was thinking.

They aren’t very big, so of course they ran out of ink eventually. But he still kept them on his desk, and he still fidgeted with them while he was thinking. And he gave me one back, to keep, when he stopped working.



Skeleton

October 26, 2017

There’s a tradition at my workplace to decorate for Halloween. So around September of 2014, Mark told me he had an idea for a decoration for our office door, but he wanted to make sure I was okay with it, because he knew I am very squeamish about some things.

“What would you think if I printed out & hung up the image from my bone scan?” he asked, referring to the full-body bone scan that initially indicated that his cancer was metastatic at diagnosis. “Because that’s sure the scariest skeleton I’ve ever seen!”


I wasn’t sure if I’d be too squeamish for it, and said maybe I could see it first and then decide? And he didn’t do it, after all. But I was heartened by his ability to find that dark humor in it.

Happy Halloween, Mark.

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