I spent the weekend preparing for my friend Marc Wisdom's funeral. Marc was 36. Saturday night, we went to his house to help prepare photos for the ceremony. My buddy Dave and I are both art directors, so his wife wanted us to put together something tasteful.

She also wanted us to poke fun at Marc.

Every year at Christmas, Dave custom designed gift cards for Marc. He would Photoshop his face onto other people's bodies and insert him into funny situations. We have been doing this since high school. Back then, it was an ad on how to pick-up girls. We put his head on a bodybuilder's body.

Last Christmas, Marc became an action movie star on the cover of his own DVD collection. This summer for his birthday, he became the star of “Wistalkers,” a war movie he “starred in” with Nicolas Cage.

So we went through photos of Marc. We went through his extensive collection of autographs. We knew Marc collected celebrity signatures, but we had no idea of how big his hobby had become. He had three or four boxes full of 8x10 glossies of famous people. Most of them were signed. His step-daughter said he would buy photos in the event that he might meet some of these people. Evidently, he met a lot of them.

Marc was a huge Journey fan. He followed them through high school and until the day he died. It didn't matter to him who was fronting the band. He was into Steve Algieri just as much as he was into Steve Perry. He had dozens of photos of the band. He went to every in-store signing and several backstage events. There were lots of pictures of him with the band. Plenty of fodder for us to make fun of Marc.

We put him in pictures with Journey, Bill Cosby and the comedian Sinbad. Thanks to the magic of digital retouching, he was rocking out with the band. He had a People's Choice Award. We wrote funny captions. Marc would have wet himself if he saw what we did to him. We knew it and his wife knew it.

He was famous for his laugh. It was loud, boisterous laugh that was infectious. Once you heard Marc laugh, you would find yourself laughing. Guaranteed.

On Sunday, I went to the visitation, an open casket viewing. None of his family could bear it. They had just gone through a touch and go week at the hospital and the sight of their son-husband-brother would have been too much.

His wife sent clothes to the mortuary to dress him. It was classic Marc. He was wearing a Journey t-shirt and denim shorts. It was so fitting an outfit for him. He had a grin and looked comfortable. He probably looked so restive because he had done everything a man could want. He had a loving wife and two daughters. He had many friends. He held a decent job. He supported his family. He was content. Here was a man who loved everybody and in turn, was loved by everybody he ever met.

Marc was draped in an Indian blanket. He was adopted at two months old. In his mid-twenties, he rediscovered his roots. He went to Indian pow-wows. He changed back his name legally to Wisdom. He started searching for his birth parents. He found his mother. He became a part of the Indian community in the East Bay. He met his wife through his new contacts there. His family grew.

I spoke to Marc at the visitation, the same way I did at the hospital days before. The same way I had spoken to him since he passed away. Because he can hear me without me having to utter a word. I didn't say goodbye. I just told him to take care and not to worry about us.

Yesterday afternoon, I buried my friend of 20 years. I was a pallbearer.

Caskets are damn heavy.

It was the first time anyone of my friends has died. I had been to lots of funerals before, but those were always for the elderly: my two grandfathers, one of my grandmothers. This was a guy I went to high school with.

It was the coolest funeral I ever went to.

I haven't laughed so hard in months. There was an open mic and people just came up and told their Marc stories.

Everyone mentioned his laugh. Lots of people mentioned his love of Journey. A couple of people ended their stories with “Rock on Marc.” He called everyone “dude.”

Because of his adoption, his family was big and varied. He had three fathers in his life. He never did meet his birth father. He had two mothers. He had one brother and three sisters. He had one wife and two daughters. He had dozens of family members. He had hundreds of friends.

This was a man who touched everyone he ever met.
Someone said yesterday that they never heard Marc utter an ill word about anyone. I thought about this. It was true. In 20 years of friendship, I had never heard him say anything negative about anyone… ever.

Who do you know that you can you say that about?

-Ron

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All material ©2002 Ron W. Lim unless noted