Dear little Cora,

Though we have never met, I’m joining the voices here to let you know that you had a very special father. You’ll read among all the tributes here of the truly special qualities that made your dad an exceptional man. And not that many people are exceptional. Everyone is special in their own way, but not everyone rises to the ranks of exceptional for the respect and admiration they earn from others.

As freshmen students at Cate Mark and his roommate Russ were kind enough to share their room with me (a day student) as an on-campus home base, a place where I could leave books and change for sports, etc. From the day I met Mark, he was unconditionally a genuinely good guy. We shared a Laguna Beach upbringing, a love for the water, and a love of ska music. And anytime Mark was listening to ska (Madness, the English Beat – go listen to these bands if you haven’t because they were in your dad’s consciousness in high school) he would do his dance. And what a dance it was. Anyone reading this who saw Mark dance will likely remember his catchy “ska wiggle” which had his arms flailing together in circular motions while his body wiggled like worm. It was both screwy and delightful, and he was always enjoying himself. Others have noted his quality of physical awkwardness – almost like his limbs had some wet sand in them and made them a little harder to coordinate – no less strong or adept, just a little goofier.

I think a lot of us, upon learning that Mark had become a Navy SEAL had to do a real mental reset. Mark? Metherell? Sweet, mellow Mark? You mean that dude is a SEAL? As in top, top physical condition? Weapons expert? Could take me down with his pinky? Has been in harrowing world combat situations? What? For me, it was a source of fascination. We haven’t been in touch since Cate, so I mainly got updates at class reunions.

Then when I learned of his death, my first reaction was: Dude! Now why would you go and do that! You’ve left a wife and baby and grieving family behind. Wasn’t it maybe time to move towards something exciting still but less life-threatening? Why risk it ALL and ask so many to pay a price along with the ultimate one you paid?

As I read over tributes to Mark the pieces start to fit together. And they only serve to deepen my respect for your dad. Most of us choose the safe course in life even as we see a path that may be our truest path yet forego that road out of fear, inertia, complacency. Mark seemed to have clicked one day in determining that he knew his path and was going to be THAT true to himself. His friend’s tale of his declaring that he was going to join the Navy and become a SEAL and then jogging ten miles, puking three times along the way- how many people would take on a mission with that determination? How many people would keep running after the first vomit?

All these qualities weave together to form a picture of a man I only knew as a young man but who ended his life as a man we aspire to be: gentle, loving, funny, grounded, loyal, committed, strong, patriotic, god-loving, a powerful warrior defending what his heart told him was worthy of it.

I had a dream about Mark. It was a day or two before I learned of his death. And I find this a slightly haunting coincidence given that it’s the only dream I’ve had in which Mark has appeared. We were in a faraway land facing very worrisome battle conditions. Mark was there for me – he was a very reassuring and calming presence. It made me feel the kind of safety I felt from leaning my head into my dad’s chest when I was a young boy. I knew everything was going to be OK because Mark was there.

I’m so sorry that you won’t have your daddy’s chest to lean on anymore. His chest is gone, but here, through the words of his family and friends he’ll leave you with a greater legacy – a tribute to his exceptional character – something which will serve you longer than his chest would have – something which will inspire you for your lifetime.

He chose you, wanted you, knowing that he risked not being there to raise you to adulthood. And he decided that in the larger scheme of things, living true to himself and his mission was worthy enough to risk his life, to risk your father, to risk Sarah’s husband. And that, Cora, is a mighty exceptional thing to do. Mark was one hell of a guy. Bless you, Sarah, the Metherell family, and all those who are missing Mark.

Colin

Colin Drake, Cate ‘87