Mark rented a room from us at our rental home here in San Diego starting in October of 2012. At the time, my oldest son Philip was just two years old, and my youngest, Matthias, hadn’t been born yet. I mention my boys because Mark genuinely loved my kids. What started as a tenant relationship quickly became a friendship. Mark and I bonded early on, likely because we're both from Massachusetts. 

Over the years, Mark became part of the extended rhythm of our family. Philip spent a lot of time at the house when he was younger. Mark would pick him up, wrestle with him, and talk sports. As Philip got older and didn't get to the house as often, I ended up being the intermediary between the two of them when it came to sports conversations, especially Patriots talk. Philip was always impressed with Mark’s predictions about players, draft picks, and potential acquisitions. More than once, Philip would say, “Mark knows ball.” ...That's a real compliment from a teenage sports enthusiast these days.  

Matthias built his own relationship with Mark as he got older. Lately, they had been talking a lot about basketball, and Matthias kept asking me to bring Mark to one of his games. ...And we almost made that happen.  Mark even had Matthias help him cook a few times, which was fun to watch. I managed to take a little bit of video of them together, about as much as Matthias would allow. Their last visit was just a couple of weeks ago.  

If I had to narrow down who Mark was into one phrase, I could say, honestly, beyond emotion, that Mark had a kind heart. He just did, and I saw it often through the years.  He was one of those people who quietly left a mark on the lives around him. 

My family and the many folks who lived alongside Mark here in San Diego will truly miss him. I know I'll especially miss the conversations about Massachusetts and Boston sports, his time teaching tennis and singing in a band, and most of all, hearing him call me “bro”.