Missing You, Mark: Life Just Isn’t the Same Without You

It’s hard to put into words how much I miss my best friend, Mark Williams Jr. 💔 He would’ve turned 36 on October 9, and it feels strange celebrating his birthday in Greece without him here. We met when I was 14, and from that moment on, we were inseparable—literally attached at the hip. I used to call him my “gentle giant” because that’s exactly who he was. We both were a little awkward, a little shy, but somehow we just clicked. He made everything easier, and we understood each other’s quirks in a way nobody else could.

Mark was the first of us to get his driver’s license. We used to laugh about how neither of us ever really had a relationship, mostly because he was so shy around girls. I wasn’t much better, to be honest. But those things never mattered because we always had each other. As we got older, life started getting in the way, and adult responsibilities pulled us in different directions. Still, I cherished every text, every corny joke, and every silly story about his string of jobs.

I just miss my best friend. Nothing about life feels the same without him. 😞

We even had our own language back in high school, especially for people we didn’t like. We called people "DAB"—short for dirty ass bitch. It was hilarious to us, and we often got funny looks whenever we used that term. Those moments made high school bearable and fun.

August 4, 2022, will always weigh heavy on my heart, especially because we had plans that night. I remember it clearly—I had to cancel because I got sick, and I texted him to apologize for messing up our plans. But Mark, being the friend he was, told me, "It's okay, it’s not your fault you got sick." That’s who he was—a true friend, always understanding. We texted back and forth until I fell asleep. His last message to me came at 9:45 PM, asking how I was feeling. I still have that text; it was the last one I ever received from him.

The next morning, when I woke up and saw he hadn’t replied, I didn't think much of it. I knew he was working late at the hospital, so I figured he was busy. I even texted him about a movie filming in downtown Paterson, expecting to hear back eventually. But then I saw messages and calls on social media. A woman reached out to me, and it was through her that I found out the truth—my best friend had passed at 9:45 PM, the same night he sent that final text. 😢

His mom, who is the sweetest person, was grieving but still thought of me. She had her best friend reach out to me to break the news. That moment shattered my world, and it’s never been the same since.

Mark was taken from us in a senseless way. A drunk driver killed him, and somehow, she got away with it. Fort Lee, New Jersey, failed him, and the lack of justice leaves me angry and heartbroken. I hope she loses sleep knowing what she’s done. I hope he haunts her every single day. I know there’s no sleep for the dead, but I can only hope there's no peace for her, either. 😔

That night broke me in ways I never thought possible. I ended up in the hospital from the grief—it was that bad. And here I am, two years later, still trying to make sense of it all. Nothing fills the void he left. There’s no one to text or hang out with, no one to crack corny jokes or share stories about work. Mark was loyal, always asking if he was a good friend, as if there was ever any doubt.

I miss him every single day, and life just sucks without him. 😞

But today, I want to celebrate him. October 9, 1988, was the day this sweet king came into the world. I wish he was still here so I could tell him that he’s still the best friend anyone could ever ask for. 🎉

Happy Birthday, Mark. I love you, and I miss you so much.

In Memory of Mark Williams Jr.: A Birthday Reflection from Greece

The Aegean Sea stretches before me, a vast expanse of blue that should inspire awe, but today it only emphasizes the emptiness I feel. It's October 9th, and I'm in Greece, thousands of miles from home, celebrating a birthday that no longer has its guest of honor. Mark Williams Jr., my best friend, my brother in all but blood, should be here with me. 🌊

Mark would have loved this place. I can almost hear his laughter carried on the salty breeze, see his grin as he’d watch me attempt to swim the crystal-clear waters below. But the laughter is just a memory now, and the dare goes unspoken.

Life has a cruel way of reminding you what truly matters, often by taking it away. Mark and I had been inseparable since we were 14—literally attached at the hip, as anyone who knew us would attest. From awkward school dances to late-night study sessions, from our first heartbreaks (which never happened, lol) to our greatest triumphs, Mark was there. Always. Until he wasn't.

The world feels off-balance without him. It's like trying to walk with one leg suddenly gone—you keep expecting it to be there, to support you, but instead, you're left stumbling, grasping for something that no longer exists. 😞

I remember the day we met, two awkward teenagers thrust into the chaos of high school. Mark, with his easy smile and contagious laugh, made everything seem less daunting. He had this way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room, like whatever you had to say was worth hearing.

Now, as I watch the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink that Mark would have loved to capture on canvas, I raise a glass of ouzo. "Happy birthday, Mark," I whisper to the wind, hoping somehow, somewhere, he can hear me. 🍷

Life without Mark... it sucks. There's no softer way to put it. The void he left is a constant ache, a reminder of all the future memories we'll never make. No more impromptu road trips, no more heated debates over the most trivial things, no more silent understanding when words failed us both.

But even in this somber moment, I find myself smiling. Because that's what Mark did—he made people smile, even in the darkest times. He taught me that life, no matter how unfair or painful, is still beautiful if you choose to see it that way.

So here I am, in Greece, celebrating my best friend's birthday without him. It's not how either of us would have planned it, but I'd like to think he'd appreciate the gesture. As I watch the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, I make a silent promise to live enough for both of us—to laugh a little louder, to love a little deeper, to adventure a little further. 🌟

Mark Williams Jr., my friend, my brother—you are missed, you are loved, and you are forever celebrated. Happy birthday, wherever you are. The world is a little less bright without you in it, but I'll keep your light shining as long as I'm here.

To Mark—may your memory be a blessing and an inspiration. Always.