Posted by Cindy Ferguson Woodruff on June 14, 2020:

Dear Marc, I am so sorry I did not get to say goodbye to you. I always wanted to meet your wife, find out if you had children, and learn what you did with your life. You were a good friend to me. Remember 1978 to 1979? I sat between you and Eric in home room at Hillsborough High School. Was it you or Eric who called me the "Berlin Bush" because my large "fro" obscured your view of "Eric the Red"? Eric's carrot red hair earned him his nickname. You were "Marcus Cedircus George," probably because you wore your ROTC uniform from time to time. In any case, the three of us laughed often. Your sense of humor was light, but you also had insightful words worth hearing. We sang in Sound System and Concert Choir together. Mr. Skora saw your talent and you brought joy to our rehearsals with your smile and your humorous jokes. I remember the night we sat outside waiting with our classmates for a show to begin. You pointed out constellations in the sky. The group car-pooled, and that night I remember my dad drove (a rarity, since he had been sick from his chemo). You and I were crowded in the back of the car with other classmates. We talked more about constellations (Or I listened). As a white girl, with a head full of unruly curls, you helped me to feel normal. All through school, I had been teased for not having straight hair. When you made a card for my 17th Birthday, you drew a picture of girl that I did not recognize. Her fro was just right, and she looked happy. You got friends to sign the card and I kept that card in my scrapbook, because that is who I wanted to be. Of course, I was amazed by your talent again, and told you I had no idea you were such a good artist. You were not a braggart when it came to your talents. You used them. At the end of the school year, you told me you were going to Westpoint. I was too clueless to know how prestigious that school was. For you it was a long way from home, and you asked me and many other friends to write you. We exchanged many letters, and you sent a picture of you in uniform. I laughed at your reasoning for picking a foreign language to study- finally selecting Chinese - the hardest language to learn. When you graduated and came home, you had great news. You sent me a wedding invitation. I wanted to go so badly! Unfortunately, I was over-ruled. My great-uncle and great-aunt were coming to visit the same day. They had never come before, and my mother thought family came before friends. If I had a car, I would have tried to do both! We stopped writing. You had a new life, and I had a mental illness that gradually crept into my life and shattered much of my reason and reality. I had a bumpy road in life, but I also had good moments. Today, I am "in remission" and have been for some time. I am happily in my second marriage. My mother kept my box of letters from you and the many other friends I wrote to back then. She knew I needed to remind myself of what was good in my life. Reading your letters made me smile and so glad to know that I had in you a tremendous friend. I know when I looked at you, I saw a young black man first. It was hard not to see your color. You had to see my pale and freckled skin. But we never talked about it, did we? There was so much more to talk about. Being silent was a coping tool then, I guess. Still, as I look at the world we are in now, I wonder. Did you have children, grandchildren? How are they doing? How is your wife? And often I have thought how are you? Well, I have finally found out. You are not on the earth. I am sure though, you are in heaven. Do me a favor - Say hi to my son up there! He left in 2000. Leukemia. I tried to connect with someone I thought was your son through Facebook Messaging. Same name, same town, in the military... He may not reply. That's okay. Just know that I am always grateful to have had you, Marc, as a friend. I will say a prayer for your family. God bless you, and Goodbye my friend. Cindy

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