... a man you don’t meet every day
Marc David Richard Rigby
July 27, 1969 – January 21, 2011
Obituary | Tributes | Service of Celebration | Photo Gallery | Marc's Xmas Baskets
Janice’s Remarks (Beloved Partner)
Marc was a man you don’t meet every day. I didn’t know him as long as many of you, but I did love him truly, madly, deeply. I feel so fortunate. So many people have thanked me for bringing joy to Marc’s last year, but he brought so much joy to my life. I feel so fortunate to have loved and been loved by such a man. He asked me in June on our 6–month anniversary why I went out with him. Not a man who ever lacked confidence in himself, the question was why I would go out with him in spite of knowing he wasn’t well. While it was his passion for the world and literature, for good food and wine, for music and theatre that first caught my eye, ultimately it was his unparalleled capacity to live and to love that took my breath away.
You all know this. Marc was clever and kind, passionate and driven, by turns focused and decisive and then witty and irreverent, routinely descending to downright goofy. He had a phenomenal memory and an intensely keen and creative imagination. He always preferred to look the truth straight in the eye and would say, "It is what it is."
But my God, that man could tell a story! From sitting with his Papa in the big chair eating snacks, to summer travels with Granddad who took him to every circus and zoo that could be found across the United States. It was on our second date that he told me about his granddad’s special fondness for elephants, how much he had wanted to take his granddad to Africa to see the elephants, about the bench at the Metro Zoo he dedicated to his granddad, and his annual visit there to remember him. I feel so privileged and so very happy we went to see the elephants this summer and sit on Granddad’s bench together. And if you spent any time with Marc, you’ll likely recognize these lyrics from a Jazz Butcher song:
If you’re hungry, eat your dinner
If you’re thirsty, have a drink
If you’re lonesome, do a jigsaw
If you’re angry, stop and think
But if you’re an elephant
And elephants walk among us
This is what you do
You walk right up to the man at the bar and you say
Has the elephant had any water
Has the elephant had any water
Life is short and it’s always getting shorter
So think about the elephant and buy him a drink
Has the elephant had any water
Has the elephant had any water
Life is short and it’s always getting shorter
So talk to the elephant and see what he thinks
There were other stories, too, of course. He regaled me with stories of a Moroccan rug merchant, a trip to Ottawa in a rattly car with an equally crazed and sleep–deprived Angus – so scary the other passengers found another way home, stories of corporate scandal, of a scavenger hunt with Melissa and some high school parties with very, very questionable dress codes. There was the epic journey his BMW took one Christmas a few years back, bachelor parties and wedding parties and singing till all hours with more than a few drinks along the way. There were stories of a bacon hat sent across the country and Christmas baskets much–anticipated by friends in several parts of the globe, of having a plane brought back to the gate with his gold–status card, of enjoying concerts and performances of all kinds, of learning to dance with Kristen so they could try to keep up with his grandparents, Harry and Gladys.
The stories he came back to time and again, though, were the ones with people who inspired him – like the young woman with the beautiful legs they met at a dance club on that Ottawa trip who, after an accident, had been told she wouldn’t ever walk again, but who had cleverly convinced one of the orderlies he was supposed to help her try to walk a little, and then a little more every day until she actually could. She was dancing when he met her. Clearly he felt a kinship with such incredible people and I think it was because of his indomitable spirit!
It was that indomitable spirit that charmed so many people and garnered so much admiration and respect from so many friends and colleagues. But first and foremost from his family. Barb and Malcolm loved him, were so proud of him, and he adored them, and Michael and all of the aunts and cousins. It wasn’t very far into our relationship when he announced that I was just going to have to meet everybody because they were all very important to him and I needed to know them. They knew him for many things – for his mischief, his charm, his grace, his sharp wit, and his unwavering devotion to friends in need – including the hungry raccoons. But he was tired and I think the elephants would have recommended he take a rest. I suspect he just wanted the best seats available to see the Great Migration in Africa.
There’s a family story, too, about Marc’s birth. He was never particularly convinced that babies were very cute so he wouldn’t mind me saying, that he came early – perhaps the only time in his life he was early, and he may not have been the cutest one in the nursery. His Nana Rigby apparently said, "No bother, we’ll make him bonny." And he was bonny! He was bonny. But I think it was he who made us bonny – by the way he looked at world and the way he looked at you and at me. Through his brilliant wit and attention to detail, but most especially through his love and compassion, he made the world bonny!
He was a man you don’t meet every day and the world was a better, a happier, and a bonnier place with him in it.