Seventeen Years: Part 2

Marc and I lived on opposite coasts from 1995 to 2003. I only got to see him about once a year, but we managed to fit in some fantastic hikes and backpacking trips. In 1997, Marc introduced me to the spectacular Lost Coast, a remote and rugged coastal area 200 miles north of San Francisco that can only be explored on foot. I took many photos on a classic Canon AE-1 camera, and Marc told me that a time was coming soon when digital cameras would have such high resolution that no one would use film anymore! From our campsites, we enjoyed front-row seats of the ocean crashing onto jagged rocks and black sand beaches. We spent hours side-by-side without saying a word. After Marc's memorial service, Amy reminded me how precious it is to have a friendship like Marc and I had--one where hours can pass in complete silence and feel completely comfortable and natural.

I had a blast at Marc and Amy's wedding. I got to stay with other college friends in a dormitory at Santa Clara University, where Marc and Amy had been serving as InterVarsity chaplains. Two years later, I was blessed to have Marc stand as a groomsman when Esther and I exchanged vows in Harvard's Memorial Church. Finally, Esther and I moved back to the Bay Area. It was great to be able to see Marc a little more often. Months could go by between get-togethers, but once Marc and I sat down and started talking, it would inevitably feel like only a few days had passed. We shared our joys and struggles, and we continued to pray for each other.

Marc was one my few male friends who was completely comfortable with genuine friend-to-friend expressions of love and affection. He usually greeted me with a hug. I remember a year ago, the last time we met for a beer at the Tide House in Mountain View, how awkwardly I received his embrace in front of the patrons standing at the bar. He wasn't awkward--just me. He would sometimes close our phone coversations with "I love you," just as you might say to your mother at the end of a phone call--that's how natural it came for him.

One of the most generous things that Marc ever did for us was to take charge of loading up our U-Haul truck in Campbell when we moved to Dublin, CA on New Year's Day, 2005. I came down with a pretty serious case of flu just a couple days before the move, and I was unable to do much packing. I had recovered just enough by moving day to pick up the truck and start moving pieces of furniture toward it. When Marc arrived along with a couple other helpers, he saw me loading the truck sluggishly and haphazardly. Marc surveyed the situation and directed us to essentially start over with packing the truck. It was like a game of 3D Tetris for him. He maximized the packing efficiency, and after working feverishly for the next couple hours, we were just barely able to fit all our large items in the truck. I don't know how we would have survived that day without him. Afterwards, Marc explained that he had helped with a few moves like this before, and "you guys looked like you needed some help."

At the beginning of 2008, I was holding out hope that Marc and I would have the chance to spend our days on the same campus again--the Google campus in Mountain View. I had received a job offer just before Christmas, and I told Marc about it in a phone conversation on New Year's Eve. He was excited for me, and he was excited about the possibility of me working in Mountain View and seeing me more often. And like me, he had been contacted by a Google recruiter, so the possibility was there for him as well. Marc had become an expert user interface designer, and I think he would have loved the university-like environment and irreverent culture of Google. (It turns out that Marc and Google share a birthday--the company was officially born on Sep. 25, 1998. I'm writing this as I ride home from the company's 10th birthday party.)

We had this conversation about career possibilities while he and Amy were driving from Reno to the Mammoth area. They were in the mountains and the call was dropped in mid-conversation. I called Marc's cell phone the following Saturday evening so that we could continue the conversation, but he didn't answer. It was Jan. 5, and I had no idea that Marc had already been taken by ambulance to the hospital at Stanford.

Some part of me still doesn't believe that I won't hear Marc's warm and relaxed voice again. I still hear it as if we had talked on the phone today. "Hey, Dave." I guess I will hear it--on the other side of glory. It's hard to wait that long, though. Maybe there's something to be learned in the longing. Marc was a true friend, the best that anyone could ask for, and yet the memory of his friendship points to a much greater Friend and the longing to be reunited points to a much greater longing. Dear God, grant that we might live with a deep longing for you at our core, and grant that we might take to heart everything that you've taught us through Marc's life.

I love you, Marc.

-Dave L