Mark Ezekiel Gettysburg, 1978-2012: A Memorybook™ Condolence Site
It is with a heavy sadness that we announce the sudden death of Mark Ezekiel Gettysburg, son, brother, friend, and dog lover. Mark brought joy to many of our hearts and brightened our long days with his gregarious smile and no-holds-barred zest for life’s zany rollercoaster. Born in North Toronto in 1978, Mark attended Little Hearts Daycare, Pierre Elliott Trudeau Elementary, and Sir John A. MacDonald High, before studying Economics and Philosophy at York University. He chose to spread his wings at an early age, travelling to Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti, the High Arctic, Newfoundland, St. Pierre and Miquelon, and Samoa before eventually settling in Vancouver, where he graduated from UBC’s law school at Allard Hall. His passions included paragliding, Ashtanga yoga, and wilderness geocaching. He is survived by parents Bernie and Ellie Gettysburg, younger brother Ben, and his beloved Golden Retriever, Kit Kat. Although he was taken from us far too soon, his light will always shine on. In lieu of flowers, donations to the Vancouver SPCA or the Dad’s Away Doggie Dog Care are greatly appreciated.
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I can’t believe Mark’s gone. He was such an awesome dude. I remember once during the Alcan suit, when we were all so @#$%& stressed, Mark suggested we go glow-in-the-dark bowling, just to blow off steam. He wore this crazy pink Hawaiian shirt that he snagged from Value Village, and picked up the tab for some jugs of Kokanee. Then he brought out a ukulele and serenaded us while we bowled. He sang Sweet Home Alabama. That’s the kind of guy he was.
— Steve Wong, lawyer, WangChanLiu & Partners
He was always a joker, but he had a good heart, you know? In high school, he was the guy who would put glitter-filled water balloons on the seats of the disabled kids, and when they exploded, would high five those kids and say they were spreading magic dust around the world, because they were so special.
— Marcella DesChamps, former classmate
Mark could be so passionate! We dated for a few years back at York. He was a Scorpio, so he had a dark, intense, private side. But he could also be sweet. Like he liked to buy red roses and remove a few of the petals and arrange them in goofy faces on my boobs. He named a goldfish after me too, and released it into Lake Ontario as a symbol of his devotion. Once we stayed up all night, making love and drinking tequila. He read to me from Suzanne by Leonard Cohen while holding himself inside me, just resting there, rocking from side to side a bit, but mostly holding himself in, trying hard not to come until the poem’s last lines. I miss him so much.
— Tanis, former girlfriend
I learned a lot from that guy. He seemed to know something about the world the rest of us didn’t. Like real ninja soul shit. He told me stories about the places he’d been. He seemed to really dig Samoa, and had a scar on the inside of his thigh, just under his balls, that he said was a ritualistic marking from the tribesmen of the Highlands, a kind of guy-to-guy initiation thing designed to honour bravery. He tried to carve that same shit into my leg once, after we had smoked a few bowls and were fooling around. I let him jerk me off, and then he pulled out a knife and asked if I minded if he cut me. I was honoured, but also disturbed, so I said maybe another time.
— Daniel Eisberg, former friend with benefits
As a young boy Mark had a lot of curiosity. He was one of those children who, during story circle, sat at the front with his elbows on his knees and his mouth wide open, caught in a trance. He was always asking ‘Why?’ ‘Why?’ he’d say, to everything. ‘Why is the moon yellow?’ ‘Why are white people white?’ ‘Why is recess fifteen minutes in the morning but only ten minutes in the afternoon?’ He was always so sensitive. So inquisitive. I wondered, after, if that had something to do with what happened.
— Rachel Katz, grade one teacher, PE Trudeau Elementary
We were happy to hire Mark. He was a diligent worker. A solid, analytical thinker. And he sure as hell knew how to play Texas Hold ’Em!!
— Peter Chan, senior partner, WangChanLiu & Partners
Mark was like the best big brother you could have. He lent me all his porn magazines when I was probably just twelve or thirteen, and taught me how to make homemade wine from dandelions. When he became a hot-shit lawyer, he bailed me out of a few tough spots. When I think about how he died, it kills me. He didn’t deserve it.
— Ben Gettysburg, brother
What struck me about Mark’s life was his generosity. Like if I forgot my towel, he would let me borrow his. He was a huge fan of the elliptical, and could bench press a shitload. Lately though something was on his mind. He wasn’t as jokey as usual. And I caught him a few times in the shower, giving me strange looks while I was soaping up my genitals. Like he had some sort of message, but didn’t know how to say it.
— Kyle, gym buddy
That young man was so attached to his dog. I used to see them at the dog park on Nelson, where I liked to do my knitting. Kit Kat was a rambunctious dog but she loved her Master greatly. Mark and I got to know each other when he became interested in one of my knitting projects. I was knitting booties for undernourished girl children in Sierra Leone, a project sponsored by my church, St. Andrew’s Wellesley. Mark asked why girls in Africa would need woolen boots. But in such a charming manner! I heard what happened, and my heart goes out to him. He must have suffered. But at least he’s with the Lord now.
— Mrs. Hazel McDonald, dog park acquaintance
Mr. Gettysburg loved the Osaka Zen combo. I think he ordered that everyday, with veggie gyoza on the side. Sometimes he would order to go, but most days he sat in the corner alone and looked out the window. I can still see him there in his fancy suit, looking scared, like someone was out to get him.
— Takeshi Iyeda, employee, Osaka Zen Sushi (Howe St. location)
He came in a lot, more so the last few weeks. We pride ourselves at Danny’s on our discreet customer service. Mark was definitely the private type. The kind of flicks a guy gets says a lot about his personality. Mark was into the heavy shit. Bondage, heavy leather, some of the kinky tranny stuff from Amsterdam. But he was pretty open-minded too. He didn’t like to put himself in a box, is what I think.
— “Elijah”, clerk, Danny’s Do-Right Love Exchange
I’m just so devastated. Mark was an angel! He meant the world to me. I know he was under pressure lately. When we got together these last few weeks, we rarely had sex. Instead he wanted me to hold him to my chest, where he’d lay his head on my tits and whimper. A few times he asked me to spank him with a studded belt, and he’d bark real loud, and then kind of howl, very primal, and bare his teeth at my vagina. And then he’d lick me. He was in so much pain, I could tell. I think he wanted someone else to carry the burden, just for a little while.
— Amber, Vancouver Top Model Elite Escort Services
When he came in he used to be so happy guy, so so happy, so happy go lucky. Every time he sing or make some jokes or something. But lately he looks not so happy. He stops ordering caramel macchiato with whip, and just grande bold drip, in a venti cup. No lemon squares, or nothing. So I know there is something wrong.
— Yukiko, barista, Starbucks, Robson and Thurlow
Yep, he came in here. Sold us an electric guitar, a bunch of crappy DVDs, a plasma TV, and a brand new set of golf clubs, never been used. We get lots of guys like him. Down on their luck, like. I don’ t think it was drugs in his case. He didn’t have the look of a junkie. Maybe he had bad debts? Or a divorce? But he was one hell of a guy. Rest in peace, Marko!
— Jasber Singh, Eager Eddie’s Pawnshop
I used to see Mark in the lobby. He always asked after my son Reuben, who has Klinefelter’s Syndrome and lives in a trailer in White Rock. And he’d always hold the door. He was old-fashioned in that way. I hadn’t seen him around for a while, so I asked Eduardo if he knew if Mark was away. I guess maybe I had a sixth sense, that something was wrong. I think it’s because I’m a mother.
— Vivian Towler-Jones, neighbour
He has totally been off Facebook for weeks. No activity. But I just thought, you know, he switched over to Google Plus.
— Adrian Dingle, Friend
Mark! Buddy! Say hi to Jesus!!
—Sam, client, currently serving life sentence at Kent Institution
I watched it all online. He’d been in the forum a few months now, and he told us how he planned to do it. It was clean. Plastic bag over the head, duct tape, Peter Gabriel on in the background. You know, the soundtrack to that movie? He was naked. And he looked so peaceful. So beautiful. He just stared out at us, not even really blinking, his eyes real big through the plastic, just like a little kid. Until there was no more breath.
— nomorewill27
Bernie and I would like to thank everyone for their support during this difficult time. Your messages of love and goodwill have been appreciated.
— Ellie Gettysburg, mother
It was the dog that tipped me off. The dog she just wouldn’t stop with the barking. The barking went on for a couple of days, and this is a dog that’s usually quiet. So I knocked on the door. I tried calling, left messages. But nothing.
It was pretty sad. I mean, shit, I’ve known this guy for years. He’s been in our building that long. Model tenant. Always paid his rent on time.
He must have been in there like that maybe two, three days? The smell was disgusting. And the dog—she just sat there beside the body, looking up at me with these crazy eyes, barking her head off, like she was standing guard.
It really makes you wonder. You think you know somebody. But how many of us do? How many of us really know what’s going on inside another person?
Am I right?
— Eduardo Miguel Sanchez, property manger, 1050 Gilford Street
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trevor Corkum's fiction and non-fiction have been published widely across Canada. His work has been nominated or longlisted for a Pushcart Prize, the Journey Prize, the CBC Short Story Prize, and the CBC Creative Non-Fiction Prize. He lives in Toronto, where he runs a popular author interview series called The Chat at 49thShelf.com. His novel The Electric Boy is forthcoming with Doubleday Canada.
LF #039 © Trevor Corkum. Published by Little Fiction | Big Truths, April 2013.
