I write this on the first of February, almost four years since you left us, Aunty.
Marc is (always is, never was) one of my very best friends.
We met at Yahoo, quickly became friends, and eventually, I met Darsh, the love of his life. And then I met his family in Bangalore, and he met mine in Kuala Lumpur. We lived in Singapore for a few years and spent some of the best times of our lives in Hong Kong working at CNN. I left for Singapore and he and Darsh left for Kuala Lumpur, and felt like we were still in the same city.
He once stayed at my Singapore apartment while I was away on a business trip. He then sent a text message asking where my tools were because some stuff needed fixing. I don't think I had what he needed, so he ended up buying them.
Professionally, Marc challenged me in the best ways. I think he could sense when I was getting too comfortable, at the risk of being complacent, so he'd seed ideas in my head to help me raise the bar or find new opportunities to be better. I don't trust easily, but when Marc told me to do something, it was never a question of whether I'd do it or not, it was always about when.
Processing life-altering news (both the great and terrible) doesn't quite feel complete now, because there's one less person to share it with.
When I got the job in New York, about two weeks after he passed, I sent a GIF to close friends of Taylor Swift atop the Empire State Building. That was maybe the first time it hit me he was really gone.
He taught me so many things when he was around, but I realize he's taught me even more after he passed. People's stories of his kindness, humor and smarts are gentle reminders of how lucky I am to have been his friend. Most of what I know about grief, I know because of him.
One of my favorite songs by HAIM is called Hallelujah. It perfectly captures what I feel when I think of Marc:
I had a best friend, but she has come to pass / One I wish I could see now / You always remind me that memories will last / These arms reach out / You were there to protect me like a shield / Long hair running with me through the field / Everywhere you've been with me all along
I take comfort in believing that somehow, I got some Marc in me, no matter how small, and that everywhere I've been, he's been with me all along.