15/01/2026
In the late afternoon of January 9, 2026, Marshall decided it was his time to fly. Knowing he’s no longer suffering brings me comfort, though not hearing his voice or his laugh is the hardest part. I feel incredibly fortunate for the many great memories.
He showed me how to stand on my own two feet while also teaching me it’s okay to ask for help when I need it. He was never afraid to admit his faults and knew when to celebrate success. He was unapologetically himself and never worried about what others thought, humbly confident but never cocky. He was never unkind, always giving more than he took, and had a natural talent for getting into a little mischief along the way.
He loved cars — he owned more than most — bringing them home the way some people bring home stray dogs, always finding a new home for them after his time with them. He shared his love of travel, food, music, and more with us as we grew up, from skiing and snowmobiling to grilling dinner outside on a beautiful summer night, to his love of animals and the outdoors, and knowing when to slow down, relax, and enjoy a cocktail. Some of my favorite childhood memories are weekend mornings, waking up to Gladys Knight & the Pips cranked on the stereo, filling the house with music and life. He didn’t like to be the center of attention, but preferred to get know someone and give them his time. He always “had a guy” or found a way to help when asked.
I’ll miss you, Marshy. Say hello to all the dogs who loved you during your time here, enjoy riding your motorcycle on the open road — you’re free.
