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THE OFFICIAL PUBLICATION OF
THE UNIVERSITY INTERSCHOLASTIC LEAGUE

Journalism adviser’s husband continues to give and teach even after his death

By Jeanne Acton | Friday, April 23, 2010 2:43 PM

On the Monday after a district meet, I am a tad frightened of my phone. Those calls are not usually much fun.

So when Rhonda Moore, the academic coordinator and journalism coach for her school, called me, I figured the news wasn’t good.

And from her tone, I suspected we had a big problem.

We did. But it had nothing to do with the district meet.

Our good friend and colleague, Janet Elbom, lost her wonderful, loving, and from all outward appearances, healthy husband.

I was stunned. And I was speechless

A healthy, kind, devoted father and husband was gone

Or at least I thought he was.

A few days after his death, Janet and her family organized a memorial for Mark on a soccer field where he had refereed hundreds of games.

When I arrived, several friends greeted me and shared their shock at Mark’s untimely and unexpected death.

I say untimely because Mark was about to be a grandfather for the first time. His son’s wife was expecting, and the baby was already overdue. And Mark’s only daughter is set to be married this fall.

As the memorial began, I found a soft spot on the grass and took a seat. A friend of Mark’s from college took the microphone and began the storytelling.

Beautiful stories about Mark poured out of people. Again and again, I heard what a wonderful, patient and giving man he was. Again and again, his friends and family shared pieces of Mark’s life with us.

It wasn’t a particularly religious memorial. In fact, I am not sure I heard the word “God” more than a few times. But it was one of the most moving memorials that I’ve ever attended.

It certainly was the only memorial that ever made me question who I was – who I am.

Friend after friend spoke about Mark. They spoke of his generosity. They spoke of his love for his wife, his kids, his friends. They spoke about how he never raised his voice and never lost his patience.

They rejoiced at this remarkable man.

Then his son spoke. Admittedly, I expected some anger, some rage.

But there wasn’t any.

Jonathan also spoke of his love for his father. He told the crowd how lucky he felt for having such a wonderful dad. Here was son, about to become a father, saying good-bye to the best man in his life.

I cried. I cried for Janet and her children. And I cried for me.

I cried because I wanted to be better. A better mom. A better teacher. A better person. I wanted to be better like Mark.

In my lifetime, unfortunately, I’ve attended my fair share of funerals and memorials. All of them were sad, but none of them changed me.

None of them made me rethink everything I say and do.

We said goodbye to Mark on that beautiful sunny day in April, but he’s not gone. Every time I raise my voice to yell at my kids or every time I get frustrated because life is not working perfectly for me, I think of Mark.

Mark didn’t yell at his kids. Mark didn’t blame the world when life wasn’t working out for him. Instead, Mark embraced love. He loved everything and everyone. Even the mistakes.

At the memorial, one of Mark’s college friends told the story about when he found Mark waiting at a bus stop in East Austin. Apparently, Janet who was working late on the newspaper forgot to pick him up after an outpatient surgery. When Mark hopped into his friend’s car, he didn’t whine and moan about Janet forgetting him. In fact, he didn’t say anything negative at all.

I want to live like that. And I’m trying.

I haven’t perfected it, but I’m getting better. And I’m getting better because of Mark. Thank you, Mark.