Marcus's Memorial Speech Notes

A year ago this week I had to write some notes so I could speak at my brother's memorial.  I had so much to say and nothing seemed profound enough.  But Marc and I laughed a lot together, and I thought it would be fitting if we could all laugh together at his memorial, honoring him.

Here are the notes, unchanged from a year ago.

There are 6 other people here that knew Marcus longer than I did.  They are Mom and Dad, Aunt Crystal and Uncle Jim, Shelly, and Kelly. 

Perhaps only one other person that spent more time with him than I did, Heidi.

I don’t remember a time without Marcus because there wasn’t one. 

He was always there to push me over when I was learning to walk. 

He was always there to make funny faces at the dinner table during grace.

He was always there to make me giggle in church and school when we were supposed to be quiet.

He was there as a roommate when we were finally adults.

He was there to stand as my Best Man at my wedding, and he was there to ask me to stand as his Best Man when Heidi and he renewed their vows on their 20^th wedding anniversary.

It’s been 4 days since my brother’s passing and the hole left by his absence is large.  All those close to me will know that already.  Marc and I were very close for all of my 41 ½ years, and he was my very best friend during most of that time.  There was a brief period during my teenage years from 12 to 16 where I lost my way and became very close with Jeffrey my cousin, but Marcus eventually straightened me out.

Most of what I learned about life, I learned with Marcus at my side.  Or at my back.  With one hand on my shoulder and one hand pointing forward, and him quietly saying, “Come on, you won’t get in trouble... who’s going to know but us?”

·        I don’t know what it’s like not to have someone to look up to.

·        I don’t know what it’s like not to have someone looking out for me. 

·        I don’t know what it’s like not to have someone I can call, any time, for any reason, to talk about any subject, however mundane. 

·        I don’t know what it’s like not to have a Big Brother.

But I do know what it’s like to have have someone to admire.

I do know what it’s like to have someone looking out for me.

I do know what it’s like to have a best friend I can call any time, for any reason.

I do know what it’s like to have a Big Brother.

And I am so thankful I do. 

It’s an experience that can NOT be explained, Brotherly Love.  It can only be experienced.  It’s a beautiful and fulfilling type of Man-Love that God intended for the men in families to share.  Brotherly Love is so great, it could only be a gift from God.  And what a wonderful gift I had with Marcus.

          Formative Event

Early in our lives we shared a learning experience that is a distillation of our relationship through our formative years.  We couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6, and we were playing in the mud in the back yard after a rain storm.  We were not allowed to walk in the mud with our new shoes, so we took them off. 

Squishing around in the mud barefoot reminded us of something else we knew, even at our young age: Poo.  The mud looked like poo.  We weren’t so young that we didn’t know the four-letter-word for poo either. 

So Marc proposed a deal: We could use the four-letter-word in our description of the mud to each other, but we must agree not to tell Mom and Dad.

It was an agreement between two brothers.  I learned so much from that agreement:

·        Working together: using four-letter-words and playing barefoot in the mud.

·        Sharing: Sharing the use of foul language, and sharing the squishy-gritty-wet experience of mud moving between your toes

·        Trust: Sharing the secret of using foul language, and not telling Mom and Dad, or even Kelly, who was a figure of considerable authority to a five and six-year-old.

·        Companionship: The simple pleasure of playing in the mud together.  I highly recommend it as a bonding experience for the target age group.

From then on, I knew this could be a great partnership.  I had someone I could trust, someone I could count on.  Some one who knew how to have a good time, and knew not to ruin it by saying too much.

We had been stomping around in the mud so long that our feet were caked with mud.  We called them our Poo Shoes.  When we got back to the house dressed in our Poo Shoes, Mom was at the back door with questions.  When she asked us what we had done to our feet, Marcus and I looked at each other and laughed, like we would so many more times in the future.

We learned so much together.  We acomplished so much together.  We had so many good times together.

We learned how to golf together as teenagers, taught by our Father.  Keep your head down!  Swing through the ball!  Think about the next shot!

We learned that our parents loved us long enough for us to really love them back.

We learned how to change diapers together, and I quickly decided the job was best left to parents.

We learned how to camp and fish together in our 20’s, making many trips per year to the Sierra’s.  We also decided together that, like golf, being good at fishing and drinking beer were things that were going to take a lot of practice.

We learned the construction business together, calling each other many times per day for the five years we worked together at Royal Pacific.  I would never have survived it without my brother. 

Those phone calls were precious to me even then.  I knew while he was alive that we had a special relationship; an open line of communication for both of us.

Marc was a very understanding person.  For me, he was always there.  It didn’t matter what time of day it was, morning, afternoon or night.  It didn’t matter what day it was, weekday or weekend.  It didn’t matter what time of year it was, summer or winter.  It didn’t matter if he had made plans already.  He was always, always, ready to share… a pizza.

Did anyone know someone who ate as much pizza as that guy?  I submit that we establish an Honorary Lifetime Achievement award for pizza consumption in his name.  The Marcus Russell Shadrick Memorial Pizza Award.

Sure, we would all like to have more time with Marcus.  No one guessed that he would pass on that day.  The truth is, no amount of time would have been enough.  I believe God knew that.  No one would ever have been satisfied with the amount of time they spent with Marcus.  That is why I truly believe he was a special gift on loan from Heaven.  We got to borrow him for a while and now he is back home. 

The beautiful thing that we all must remember about this man, this son, this brother, this husband, this father, this friend, this one true gentleman, is that we all still have the good times we spent with him.  We still have them in our memories, in our hearts.  Death can’t take away the good times we had.

We must honor him by remembering the good times we shared. 

My final communication with him- he sent me a text that said:

“Almost home-marathon day.  Everything is great.  No one could believe I was walking!”

And my response:“you call THAT walking?”

What a positive attitude!  Even 24 hours before he passed, he wasn’t dying, he was living!  He was never dying, he was always living.  He lived up until the very end. 

Let’s follow his example.