Missing Marshall
It is quite disconcerting to turn on the computer and find out via Facebook that a friend has died.
Marshall was my age. I first met him when we worked for a political party at Queen's Park (provincial legislature for my non-Canadian friends). He was tall, lanky, smart, irreverent and wore leather pants to work back in the day when the only people who wore leather pants were rock stars.
We didn't share the same political philosophy as our employer -- which made us allies. Plus, he had a rebellious streak, as did I. He was a fun guy to hang out with.
After a very bitter break-up with a boyfriend of four years -- one of those jagged, prolonged, intense splits that leave you shattered -- Marshall rallied a band of my co-workers (most of us were in our early 20s) and walked into my office, where I sat, red-eyed and useless. "Up you get," he said. "We're going to the CNE."
We spent the rest of the afternoon on every ride, eating cotton candy, playing silly fair games. It was exactly what I needed. Marshall had that way about him -- he instinctively knew how to help somebody, to lift them up and feel better.
We lost touch after we left Queen's Park. The years passed.
Marshall found me on Facebook about a year ago. We reconnected -- he was the same warm, exuberant, witty man I had known 25 years ago. He wrote thoughtful posts. He made comments that made me laugh out loud. He was a delight.
I have to thank Facebook for that -- for letting Marshall shine his light on my life again.
RIP, my friend. I will miss you so.
Marshall was my age. I first met him when we worked for a political party at Queen's Park (provincial legislature for my non-Canadian friends). He was tall, lanky, smart, irreverent and wore leather pants to work back in the day when the only people who wore leather pants were rock stars.
We didn't share the same political philosophy as our employer -- which made us allies. Plus, he had a rebellious streak, as did I. He was a fun guy to hang out with.
After a very bitter break-up with a boyfriend of four years -- one of those jagged, prolonged, intense splits that leave you shattered -- Marshall rallied a band of my co-workers (most of us were in our early 20s) and walked into my office, where I sat, red-eyed and useless. "Up you get," he said. "We're going to the CNE."
We spent the rest of the afternoon on every ride, eating cotton candy, playing silly fair games. It was exactly what I needed. Marshall had that way about him -- he instinctively knew how to help somebody, to lift them up and feel better.
We lost touch after we left Queen's Park. The years passed.
Marshall found me on Facebook about a year ago. We reconnected -- he was the same warm, exuberant, witty man I had known 25 years ago. He wrote thoughtful posts. He made comments that made me laugh out loud. He was a delight.
I have to thank Facebook for that -- for letting Marshall shine his light on my life again.
RIP, my friend. I will miss you so.