Softball -- Cars -- Cigars -- Beer -- Rap Music -- Poker

It's Tuesday of last week and I'm tearing through the work day, getting ready to leave for Chicago on a 5 day business trip. Lots of loose ends are getting tied up. More importantly, I'm looking forward to the opening of softball season that night. It's not just opening night -- Mark and I are going to have a long awaited cigar after the game.

He had a baby boy a month ago and this cigar had been planned as soon as he told me. Two weeks ago, I also found out he was being laid off of his job as a salesperson. We talked for about a half an hour discussing his recent travels, the new baby, softball and what the hell he was going to do next - there's a lot of stress with a new baby and no job. I don't think Mark needed someone to tell him that things would work out, but I did. I also told him not to forget the stogies for the game on Tuesday, "No way dude, I'm all over that." Mark smokes good cigars and I knew he was bringing something tasty. We'd sit around, smoke, drink a few beers, and talk all this shit out. I changed my plane reservation from Tuesday night to Wednesday morning.

Tuesday is in the home stretch -- I'm following up on some urgent shit at the office that will ultimately be entirely forgotten in a matter of weeks, beginning to pack my bags and powering up the extra laptop batteries so I could watch a DVD on the plane... and I get a call from my wife. It was one of those "aw shit" things. She had called earlier while I was in a meeting and I forgot to call her back.

The message was something like "Mark from your softball team died last week..."

I didn't hear her correctly, or she didn't get the message correctly... I called our answering machine to hear it for myself. At 12:15 on a Tuesday afternoon his wife called to tell me her husband had died and that she knew he was scheduled to come tonight, but wouldn't be coming to the game. "Please tell the guys for me."

We were also getting ready for a different season. On game night, we would follow-up with a poker game that could last until 2AM. Not bad for a weeknight. One thing I never understood was Mark's affinity for gangster rap. A thin white kid who grew up in a predominantly white suburban setting, Mark could lip sync Public Enemy like he was from Compton. He would put it into the CD player and we would be playing and it would shuffle in and he would break out in a rap... It was too damn funny.

The entire middle of me disappeared. I was standing there with absolute emptiness where my heart and gut had been just seconds before. I quickly left work and went home to try to find out more. I finally got in touch with the guy who introduced us and he filled me in to the details and let me know that the funeral was at 1:00 that day. She was to bury her husband in 45 minutes and she called to tell me that he wasn't coming to the game.

Mark was seemingly healthy - a thin athletic build and there was nothing deceptive about his speed -- he could really turn it on. After the game that night I told everyone on the team what had happened. What a horrible thing, what an absolutely horrible thing to have to do. Prepared speech went out the window and a stream of words came out of my head and I didn't stop until the faces looking back at me registered the news. Then I shut up.

Softball, cars, cigars, beer, rap music, poker -- He was a husband and a father, and he was my friend. Mark will be missed.

He had mentioned that he had a little thing with his heart once, several years ago when we found out one of the guys on our team had open heart surgery. It was a casual reference and one I had forgotten. Now it's one of those things I can't forget.

last Tuesday would be the first time I saw my friend Mark after his son had been born a month ago.