July 7, 2022
July 7, 2022
Marc was one of my favorite people. We were the kind of friends that would always pick up right where we left off and build from there. I learned something new about him every time we met. And, a lunch date less than two hours was out of the question. We would catch up on our lives, talk about work, life, our families, and ultimately go down some philosophical rabbit hole.
The last time Marc and I had lunch was last November. I requested a half day off to meet a friend friend for lunch (yes, really!). We ate at Saigon Noodle House and the young man taking care of us understood the space two old friends, two old souls, needed to catch up. (This is where Marc would want me to give a promo for Saigon Noodle House: 4-star authentic Vietnamese food and kind, pleasant, and spacious service — Marc had his own dabbles in the restaurant business and belied in supporting local small business).
It was a 3-hour lunch. I remember our sharing conversation, sharing our food, sharing joys, sorrows, and laughter. I cherished his authenticity, his intelligence, his wicked sense of humor, his rough-around-the-edges balanced with his deep sensitivity, his kindness, his generosity, and his irreverence. I miss him.
My last memory with Marc was that lunch day. We moved our conversation out to the parking lot, then hugged and said our “see you later”s. As I pulled out of the parking lot and fell in line with the other drivers trying to exit the parking lot, the driver in front of me started backing up and was clearly maneuvering to go the other direction, changing course in the middle of traffic. Momentarily, I was a little peeved and then after a full 180, I saw, with his window rolled down, it was Marc. He waved, laughed out loud, and stepped on the gas. Meanwhile, I sat in traffic.
I missed not catching up with you before you were gone for good, Marc. That breaks my heart. I will miss the future dates we had talked about and never planned. I do, though, have so many memories from across the years that will keep you and your influence alive in my life. Thank you for that. I hope you knew how much I treasured our friendship.
Rest in your own kind of peace, Marc.
The last time Marc and I had lunch was last November. I requested a half day off to meet a friend friend for lunch (yes, really!). We ate at Saigon Noodle House and the young man taking care of us understood the space two old friends, two old souls, needed to catch up. (This is where Marc would want me to give a promo for Saigon Noodle House: 4-star authentic Vietnamese food and kind, pleasant, and spacious service — Marc had his own dabbles in the restaurant business and belied in supporting local small business).
It was a 3-hour lunch. I remember our sharing conversation, sharing our food, sharing joys, sorrows, and laughter. I cherished his authenticity, his intelligence, his wicked sense of humor, his rough-around-the-edges balanced with his deep sensitivity, his kindness, his generosity, and his irreverence. I miss him.
My last memory with Marc was that lunch day. We moved our conversation out to the parking lot, then hugged and said our “see you later”s. As I pulled out of the parking lot and fell in line with the other drivers trying to exit the parking lot, the driver in front of me started backing up and was clearly maneuvering to go the other direction, changing course in the middle of traffic. Momentarily, I was a little peeved and then after a full 180, I saw, with his window rolled down, it was Marc. He waved, laughed out loud, and stepped on the gas. Meanwhile, I sat in traffic.
I missed not catching up with you before you were gone for good, Marc. That breaks my heart. I will miss the future dates we had talked about and never planned. I do, though, have so many memories from across the years that will keep you and your influence alive in my life. Thank you for that. I hope you knew how much I treasured our friendship.
Rest in your own kind of peace, Marc.
