Mark the Great

Memories from a Sister
This is a post by Jackie Richardson Mortensen Mark's Sister:

The first time I ever remember playing 'Mark the Great' was at a giant family gathering when I was about 11. Mark had just returned home from his mission. As family reunions go the kids had already burned through every thing that had been planned for us. We were getting bored and starting to annoy the adults. I remember my big brother Mark suddenly jumping in to our midst and yelling "who wants to play a game?" We all gathered in around him as he explained the rules. "this is a simple game" he said. "It is just like follow the leader, you follow me and do every thing I do and when you do what I did you shout out MARK THE GREAT!" We spent the next few hours following Mark around playing Mark the Great. If you can imagine about 30 kids following him climbing over spare tires, throwing rocks, following his every move all the while squealing and laughing as we yelled "Mark the Great". I never fully appreciated the impact of this game until one day I was the adult and I was wishing that we had just planned a few more things to entertain the kids at a family gathering. While we were wondering what else we could do to entertain them I observed as Mark took giant steps towards them and excitedly yelled "who wants to play a game?" We laughed as we watched Mark lead a group of once restless and potentially trouble making children around the park while they randomly called out "Mark the Great".

Last night my big brother 'Mark the Great' suffered a heart attack and left this world. He was only 44. My heart aches as I remember our last conversation about a week ago. I had not seen him in over a year. He told me that on memorial day he visited my fathers grave and he said he was able to hold it together until he noticed the little chain I had placed by his headstone that said "love from Puerto Rico". We both cried when he told me this as we shared in the heartache of missing our father.

He saved my life when I was drowning as a child. I remember soon after he pulled me out of the water my mom was holding me in a blanket. I looked at his legs and saw blood pouring down his legs, injuries he had suffered tying to get to me. Several years later he took me into the water again and baptized me before he left on his mission. I guess you could say that he saved me twice. Once by pulling me out of the water and once by pulling me in.

Last night I held his hand at the hospital shortly after he passed away. Right now the surreal feeling of this world without him is hard to comprehend. While we know that he is not far away my heart aches for the sweet little family of 6 he left behind.