Written for the Hunter E. Boss Foundation

Topics: loss of a loved one, dark humor, resilience, family

It was noted, by a few people, that although our family participated in the HEBF essay series, there was a noticeable absence. (And I don’t mean Hunter.) 

Where is Mark Boss?

I asked Mark if he wanted me to share the letter he wrote to Judge Versluis. 

He said no, too personal.

I asked Mark if he’d like to do a Q&A style thing.

He said no, too emotional.

I asked Mark if he wanted to say anything about it.

He said, “Which part?”

Which part, indeed. 

Listing Mark’s family members who are still alive is a shorter list than the ones who are dead. Think about that for a second. The family you’re born into, the family you chose, the family you built…combine them all, and the dead outmatch the living (and not just ancestrally). That is not a normal statistic for someone barely in their 60s. Alas, it is the reality.

Betsy. 

Tyler. Marylynn. Tricia. Brett.

Tom. Marlene. Gage. Ryder.

Lynne. Janice. Mary.

That is the entire list of the living. And if you filter it down to DNA, the list dwindles to less than half. If you want to know someone who knows a lot about grief, his name is Mark Boss. He has buried parents, siblings-in-law, a wife, a nephew, and a son. Old age. Cancer. Accidental. If there is a way to endure emotional pain, Mark has.

Before we continue, we need to rewind for a second. On not one but two different occasions in my lifetime, I have found myself in conversations where Mark Boss comes up by happenstance without the other individual knowing he is my dad. I usually start with something off-handed about a family member. Who? Mark. Mark who? Boss. You know Mark Boss?

Different people, different situations years apart, with an identical question: “You know Mark Boss?” The question was quickly followed with a glowing refrain: “Mark Boss is the coolest person I know!”

Two times I have been told by peers they have met Mr. Boss and defined him as the “coolest person they know.” (Side note: your stepdad being defined as the “coolest” isn’t the awesome life goal it sounds like. Nobody wants to be less cool than their parent, I assure you.)

Oh yeah, he rides dirt bikes! And snowmobiles! And used to race speed boats! And traveled with NASCAR! And Indy racing! And hung around with the likes of Richard Petty and Dale Earnhardt! He partied at St. Elmo’s! He collects Ray-Bans! He street raced Kyle Petty and won!

There was a beer commercial a few years ago about The Most Interesting Man in the World. The joke went around that they should’ve hired Mark. Well, folks, I have a rebuttal: Mark Boss is really just a big dork with snarky comments and a twisted sense of humor. There, I said it.

Okay, back to the present. It’s Sunday dinner at Mark and Betsy’s house. Mark told all of us we had to look in the backyard—he was so excited to tell us about his new purchase! Drum roll please…Blain’s Farm and Fleet got new bird seed. 

Yup. That was his big news. That was the big exciting purchase—new bird seed from Blain’s. The four of us kids laughed at the Boomer of it all and took our spots around the dinner table. 

Halfway through the meal I look outside at my parents’ leafless, gray backyard. The trees are bare, the woods are covered in a several-day-old layer of snow. It’s bleak, to say the least. Except for a fluttering little spot of red.

And another one.

Another one.

So much red! This tree, that tree. That branch has three! 

Wide-eyed, I looked  outside before announcing to my family that there was a literal herd of cardinals in the backyard.

Mark, straight-faced holding a piece of steak on his fork, looks outside. “Well, we do know a lot of dead people. Guess the gang’s all here.” He shrugged and shoved the fork in his mouth.

If you’re unfamiliar with the lore, the story goes that cardinals are a loved one's way of checking in to say hi. When you see a cardinal, it’s someone from heaven giving you a wink. Usually you see one cardinal. Maybe two. Three is a stretch. Four is a miracle. Five or more?! That’s just pathetic.

Hunter.

Jay.

Bob.

Missy.

Jeff.

Cal. 

Thelma. 

Paul.

Leslie.

Jodi.

As we looked out at the lost loves—the lost lives—you might think we’d get emotional. Nah. Not really our style. I should rephrase: that’s not Mark’s style. He redirected the conversation back to how he had to grease the feeder to stop the damn squirrels! I grabbed my phone and pulled up a video of a squirrel swinging around a pole to Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball.” We watched it and laughed. Next, Tyler pulled up a video. Then Marylynn showed a cat video. Brett talked about the weird thing Millie did the other day. Betsy asked him to send her the picture so she could add it to her digital picture frame. 

The whole while, the gaggle of cardinals watched from outside. None of us cried about the number of dead people we know, or how our table is more empty. Nobody shed a tear wondering which cardinal was Hunter or Missy. Instead, we listened to Miley Cyrus and watched a video of Ty and Marylynn’s cat, Wally, scale a screen door.

That’s the secret of Mark’s resilience. Does he miss Missy and Hunter? More than one human should be allowed to miss something. But he pointed out if Missy hadn’t died, Mark would never have gotten remarried. If Missy died and then Hunter, Mark would literally be alone. No wife. No kids. No future. No hope. Just birds. And at the end of the day, he likes Blain’s and he likes his birds and his bird-feeding hobby, but he likes having a full table at Sunday dinner more.

Mark could (more than anyone else I personally know) wallow and bitch and complain and center himself in the narrative that Jesus must just flat out hate him. But he doesn’t. He never has. He makes jokes about being Job or needing to refresh his sack clothes, but he doesn’t let it break his spirit. He gets quippy about the macabre nature of his life, and the awful things he has had to do (like plan and pay for multiple unexpected funerals), but never complains as to why it happens to him. He has moments where he weeps, but quickly recalibrates and says, “Well that’s enough of that for one day,” and then carries on. 

A few weeks ago a customer who recently lost his wife came into the shop. He was chatting with Mark about how terrible and lonely grief can be. He said something about how he forgot Mark lost his first wife. Mark just nodded and confirmed that yes, Missy died in her 30s. The man asked how Mark survived this many years without his wife, let alone losing his only son. Mark isn’t usually one for profound words. Like I said, snarky is his preferred dialect, but I was standing a few feet away doing inventory when I heard his answer…

“That’s the witness, isn’t it? By the will of God, I’m still standing.”

If that isn’t the coolest fuckin’ answer, I don’t know what is. Forget Richard and Kyle, Tom Petty would be proud. 

So Mark has a cluster of cardinals in his backyard. He carefully and compassionately watches and feeds them, obsessing over their food, shelter, and squirrel foe. Day after day, he gets up and keeps tending to his birds. And his wife. And his inherited children. He talks to his coworkers, colleagues, friends, and family with a joke and a curse word, not with pity or bitterness, but with the perky enthusiasm of someone who still very much enjoys living. Because Mark Boss doesn’t back down. Someone has to keep feeding the cardinals, and why wouldn’t it be the Most Interesting Man in the World?

This essay and all opinions stated therein are endorsed by Mark E. Boss. All rights reserved, copyright 2023.