Writing On The Wall

You always did like color. I shouldn't be surprised that you took to street art and tattoos. You doodled on everything - even your shoes. I will never forget my trip to Amsterdam when you were in 7th grade. You were so intrigued by a town in Europe that fostered street graffiti and complained how we should 'support' it here in the states. I remember bringing you some postcards of the art there and you kept them in your room in Cupertino using your own sharpies that you begged me to buy you so you could draw in the sketch pad I got you as you tried to copy some the art. I don't know what ever happened to those cards, but I know you took them when you left the house to go back to your dad's, so who knows?

I never appreciated the 'art' the way you did as you know. You used to tease me about it :). That's ok, I knew I wasn't the only parent in the world who didn't exactly share the likes and dislikes of their kids. You didn't like my art either...or my music...or a lot of my ways.

Speaking of coloring, you always"colored outside of the lines" as they say. Boldly (or foolishly?) stepping outside the boundaries of what was considered acceptable or even legal in some cases. It drove me crazy and gave much of the family heartache and anguish in the process. But we loved you - always. Even when you pushed buttons and limits. I truly would give anything to have those buttons pushed again. I'm just heartbroken you died so tragically. And your final hours were living hell. I'm so sorry, Son. None of us saw the writing on the wall of a life cut short. We only saw the color and potential of a beautiful piece of work that was YOU.

Oh Lord, you truly create masterpieces and I thank you for Mark's life. May he live in peace eternally with you who understood him more than any of us ever could. Amen.