My Memories of Mark's Death

In a few weeks, it will be 17 years since my brother Mark died. I started writing this a couple of years ago and haven't published it...just because. I'd like to recount some of my memories of 1993. I will probably add to it leading up to July 6, 2010. I know that it should be this long...people have short attention spans, but it really doesn't take long to read, it is very conversational and matter of fact. I just couldn't split the story up.

Perhaps this story will encourage you to enjoy the days, to, like Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes to, "eat, drink, and enjoy the fruit of your labors," or to give your wife, husband, brother, sister, mom, or dad a hug and tell them how much you love them...

Summer, 1993

I remember the day I took my last exam to finish my undergraduate degree at University of Delaware, July 6, 1993. It was a hot summer day and I was finishing up "Nutrition" which would complete my degree. I loved my soon-to-be-fiance', Melanie, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the one for me--in fact, I told her this on our first date (I was too pushy, by the way, so none of you young boys get any ideas with my little girls!) I was a concert pianist, playing at every opportunity, I had great friends at the church. So, let me back up a few weeks.

Several young couples had started something we affectionately, still to this day, called, "Group." This is where I met Bob Imperatrice, one of the best friends a man could hope for, and my wife met his wife Tracy--what a blessing to have real, non-fake, non-fair-weather, through the good and the bad, through your sins and successes type friends. Don't ever take for granted the good people God has put in your life. You know, it is really "OK" to be the type of friend who is always encouraging. Don't always feel the need to point out other people's sins and weaknesses...they probably already know about them. Bob and Tracy have always been encouraging friends even though they have seen us up close and personal.

John Cassidy was one of the greatest musicians I had ever met. We played music together all the time and did some amazing things with the choir and the music ministry of the church. He and I would laugh SO HARD that my face would hurt--I REALLY miss those days. He and his wife Lisa, had a little baby girl named Jade who is now a young woman...to this day, Jade still remembers that I was always holding her.

My sister Heidi and her husband Greg Nequist were a part of this group. Heidi and Greg met at Virginia Beach while they were both cruising main street (sshhh....don't tell the kids!) What a work God has done in their lives.

Paul and Michelle Robinson were also in "group." I have known Paul since I was a little kid. Just the other night, we enjoyed a night together with Paul and Michelle and we talked about the old days. Paul and Michelle--as young as they are--go ALL THE WAY BACK. Paul was a big-time quarterback at William Penn High School, back in the 80's, and then at Temple University. Paul was a tough guy back in high school and has quite a story. My Dad was his youth pastor back then--what a pair that must have been.

At "group" we would just hang out, get to know each other, laugh, disciple each other, pray together, dream big, and just have fun. Only a few of us had children, and some of the couples were not yet married. Life was good back in June of 1993.

PART II

Piano, the woman of my dreams, group, and plus I was "cut." Honestly, I used to be in awesome shape! Life was good. I remember the day that I finished up that Nutrition class. I knew that in the fall, I would be headed for Temple University to study under a former pupil of Vladimir Horowitz, Alexander Fiorillo. Through God's grace, I had been given a full scholarship and a stipend to work on my Master's Degree in Piano Performance at TU.

Life was simpler back then--really and truly, it was--the Internet was not the center of the universe. I don't think there was universal email, and cell phones were for rich people. It wasn't the 1950's....but it was simpler than today. The night that I finished up my college education, I was flying high. My brother Mark and I were going to lift weights together. That night, I started lifting in the back room of our basement. I had my weight belt on and no shirt. I remember walking out of the back area of the basement to the area that was finished, and there was Mark sitting on the couch with Kelly Marston. They both started laughing and I went back to my weight lifting. I can still see his smiling face. I also remember Mark ribbing me about getting older and out of shape. My mom heard this and said, "Mark...Chuck is just growing into a man's body." And Mark said, "yes....a very LARGE man's body." He was a funny guy.

PART III

So, I went back to my weight lifting and then I went upstairs to my bedroom. At the time, I was reading through Harold Camping's book, "1994?" Camping had determined that Christ would return in September of the year 1994--about 14 months from then. If you can make the verse, "No man, not even the Son, knows the day or the hour" say, "No man, not even the Son, knows the day or the hour, except Harold Camping" I guess you can make the Bible say anything. Oh well, Christ did not return, and I really don't think he is going to in our lifetime. I think it must get much worse before this next event. But that is just my opinion.

It was around 10:50 and surprisingly, we were all home--my parents, my brother Dan, and my sister, Heidi. I could hear my parents talking together. A great childhood memory was listening to my parents talk together before going to sleep. They would talk and then they would pray out loud. How powerful. I hope my generation will recover their faith and practice.

That night was no different, I could hear them talking and then the phone rang. I could hear my mom's side of the conversation: "What??.....(silence)...."Are they OK?" (silence)..." Then she hung up, my Dad asked her what was wrong, and my mom answered, "Mark has been in a car accident and he is in critical condition." As I write this today, I am still in shock that this actually happened. Why are we so surprised by suffering? It wasn't supposed to be this way. My sister and I were just talking about this the other night. Before Mark died, we didn't really know any pain in our lives. Sure, we saw it in other people's lives--but these are the types of things that happen to "other" people...not to us. Everything changed.

My mom and dad flew out of the house--I think my sister went with them. As they left, the phone rang again. I answered the phone as I was putting on my shoes, and on the other line was Pastor Bob Auffrath. Pastor Auffrath was the pastor, for many years, at Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Newark, De. EP had planted Glasgow and Pastor Auffrath was a great mentor to my Dad and a lifelong pastor of many on my mom's side of the family. All he could say on the other line was, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry." Looking back, I assume that Pastor Auffrath already knew what we had yet to find out.

Dan and I got into my car and we began to drive to Christiana Hospital. Neither one of us was crying when we got into the car. I started saying that this was bad--perhaps Pastor Auffrath's phone call was subconsciously preparing me for the worst. By the time we got to the end of our drive, Dan was wailing, as was I0---that would go on for many days, weeks, and then months sporadically. Some people don't show their emotion when they lose a loved one...there is nothing wrong with this...they are showing their emotion differently...we didn't hold back...we couldn't.

PART IV
We passed the accident scene on Route 1 near the 273 exit. We saw the totalled blue Toyota Camry on the wrong side of the road and we knew it was big trouble. We got to the hospital and I still remember the first thing I saw was my sister, Heidi, collapsing. She was wearing black pants. Why do I still remember that?

We went into the room and it was chaos. I believe that was the first time I ever saw my Dad cry. He was sobbing--everyone was. My Dad had gone in to see Mark and had come out with blood all over his hands....was it Mark's...from Dan having a bloody nose? I still don't know to this day...don't really need to know.

I went in to see Mark and collapsed when I saw his body. Dr. Warsal was there. He is an angel and part of our family. We stayed at the hospital for a while--to do what? What do you do at a hospital when someone is dead? There is nothing they can do. My Uncle Ted, my Dad's brother, came to the hospital and just cried and hugged us. By this time, it was the middle of the night and we went home. Melanie was there with me. What do you do when a tragedy strikes in the middle of the night? Do you stay up all night? Do you sleep? How can you sleep? We all went to sleep on the living room floor. I believe some people from the church came over and prayed. Jim Weaver was sitting in our family room with others in a circle praying. Many people don't realize this--Jim Weaver and Josh Guzman (the pastors at Crossroads Presbyterian) are two of the closest friends my brother Dan has ever had and were a part of our inner circle. It is funny the little details you remember (or forget). When we see each other today, we pick up were we left off. We mostly laugh about how retarded so many Christian people can act.

At some point, I must have made my way back upstairs and went to sleep in my bed. I remember waking up the next morning and thinking it had all been a nightmare, but knowing it really did happen when I could hear wails coming from downstairs. I ran downstairs to see my Dad clutching onto a picture of Mark with his face touching the picture. As long as I live, I will never forget this moment.

PART V

Have you ever been in a group of people who were collectively lamenting before the Lord? Before my family came to Delaware, my Dad was the pastor of a church in the inner city (Logan area) of Philadelphia. You should hear the stories of God's mighty works that happened during that phase of my Dad's ministry. The city is where the real ministry is at--no doubt about it. But at a very high cost to those who are called. A few days after Mark died, the people from Philadelphia came to our house. This was a group of 25-30 African American brothers and sisters in the Lord. I remember they sat in our family room and told stories about my Dad's ministry of back in the day. The room vibrated with laughter. Some of the people there didn't even know my Dad--they had come with the others who had told them "of Pastor Betters" and of his families time of pain. My parents had been there for many of these people in their times of deep pain. Drugs, alcohol, abuse, prostitution, death...you name it...it happened in my Dad's early years of ministry. I used to love listening to my Dad tell stories of his early years. He would do this all the time when we first came to Delaware.

After they told stories, we began to pray. The room vibrated with emotion and lament. I believe there is a Scripture that speaks of prayers being as "labor pains." Well, that was the first, and only time, I have ever been in a room that was in spiritual labor. Brother after brother, sister after sister, laid bare before the Lord lifting up my family in our time of desperate need. Everyone in the room was audibly praying along with whomever "had the floor." You could barely even hear the person praying. It wasn't emotionalism...it was real. I will never forget that time of prayer. Perhaps it sustained us through another day.

Our friends from "group" were there for us. I don't know why, but I still remember Tracy Imperatrice kissing me on my cheek as I cried and cried. She gave me a hug and kissed me...that meant a lot for some reason. How would we have ever known back then that life would be so full of blessings and curses when life was so simple? Many of the friends from "group" have had struggles of their own but we are all still together. That is amazing. That goes to show the power of community and relationships.

I will write again...I have some theories on the accident scene and have had some people step forward who were actually there...not that it matters much today...but some details were very iffy. I truly believe there was another car involved and that car ran Mark off the road out of road rage. I believe that car was white. I knew this could be a possibility but it was confirmed when I met a person "out of chance" who filled in some of these blanks. I also didn't know it was raining that night. Something happened that night that only God knows...but things tend to come to the surface at some point. I'll post again, there is so much more I want to share.