Vandom Acts of Randall--ism, Mark-edly so....

Dear Mark,
    It's been a long spring in and out of the hospital, and I'm writing this blog because you have been there, with the rest of us, throughout this whole experience.
    Not simply because the hospital was where we last held your hands or saw you smile at us, although that has added to our emotional levels in a huge way -- but because you were the single greatest influence on Randall's life over the last few years.
    Remember when Randall was last hospitalized this long, when Andrew was a baby? I was in and out of the daycare that fall. Randall used to come up to the church with me, and sleep up on the 4th floor (where the MYF used to meet) during his recovery, and often he was there when you or Nancy came to pick up little AJ at the end of long days. You and Nancy looked after me, then, bringing me little cards and food and comforts for a weary momma. The whole time I had the privilee of caring for baby Andrew, you were the only daddy who stopped to stay and and visit. When Rand was there those weeks, you two talked of more than just your baby -- talk baseball and fishing and jab at each other's beloved teams and players.
    He had such joy when y'all came to church where we were, and you two developed a pretty strong bond. He loves your boys almost as much as you do, and the first thing he wants to do tonight is go to Aj's game if it doesn't rain. I'm fighting back the tears as I write this because after all this time, we still miss you so very much. I can still see you standing in my driveway on a December day, tears like these wetting your cheeks as you talked of bestowing Rand the best Christmas gift, ever.
    You were in the ICU with us when he first was admitted back in February. We tried not to relive the panic that set in when we realized how sick you were, but it was not easily dispatched.
    You were in the pre-op with Randall, and have been on the 3rd floor with us too, back and forth between the ICU and the old Bethania wing, and I wished so many times that you were there to tell Rand to be strong and keep his chin up and be positive.
    You were perhaps the only person besides Jon who has a calming effect on him. I did the best I could in your stead, man.
    Randall wanted so much to be a man like you, steady and strong and affable and kind and practical and adventurous all rolled into one. You showed him how a man can be independent and have a passion for his career and still be the loving head of a household; you showed him about responsibility and drive, working hard towards goals so that leisure time can fully be enjoyed in security. You showed him how to be a wonderful husband and father.  You taught him the finer points of microbrews. LOL You showed him how to be a man.
     After fourteen long years, Randall can fully model himself after you, and Jonathan, whom he loves as dearly as he did/does you, and get on with his life as a man. He wants to work hard, get married, and raise a family well, just like you. Rand doesn't need to worry anymore about someone sneezing on him and sending him to the ER. He can go on a date and not worry if kissing some cutie is literally going to kill him, play tackle football, go to the batting cages, work in a pharmacy, go to the firefighters academy, even get in a fender bender without fear of sudden and immediate catastrophe.
      He can simply live -- and live simply, as you did, relishing the wonders of life in small glimpses as you leaned back to see the whole picture that God has painted for all of us.
    We love you and miss you terribly...we know that you are always here with us... and we think of you every single time we hear the Apostles' Creed, " I believe in the communion of saints."
     Rain or not, tonight we'll raise a glass to you ( Rand won't drink it since he's on painkillers ) and toast to spring, baseball, health, and the love of good friends who feel like family.
     Thanks, Mark, for being the man of God that we all needed in our lives. Let the happy-memory- tears flow... and...
      Cheers.

Love,

Amy