As we get older, it seems like the frequency of loss increases. It doesn't make it easier, especially when the death is someone young and the circumstances tragic. Such was the case last weekend.
I drove by the scene on Sunday (News Tribune story here), as curious as the other drivers on Pearl Street to know why the road was closed. It didn't look good, but I assumed it was a big world and the horrible circumstances on that street would not touch me directly.
Turns out the world is not so big. Although I'd only met Mark a few times, many in our community knew him. He walked the streets of Ruston often. My most memorable time spent with him was at a Scottish ball with Mark at our table. He loved to wear a kilt in those days, and seemed to relish life outside the comfort zone.
I haven't seen him in years and had no idea the dark twist his life had taken. My heart goes out to his family and close friends. Not only do they have to deal with the physical loss, they have dealt with loosing Mark for a long time in other ways. May Mark rest in peace ~ and his family somehow find rest and peace now too.