Mark Edward Van Zant

As I write this, I am listening to Jackie Wilson’s “Higher and Higher” and I can almost see my brother Mark Van Zant on stage, starting strong on his karaoke go-to and confidently revving up an appreciative crowd in a basement bar just off Davie in Vancouver. Mark’s voice cracks only on the “too-high” chorus, amply saved by his very cool dance moves honed over years of eager performance.

That’s the Mark we’ll all remember: the extrovert in every room, throwing caution to the wind. The one who, in any new town, would know everyone within a day and introduce them to you as if he’d known them for years. I always felt good as Mark proudly introduced me to all his friends, his shyer younger brother, Eric, as he did that night on Davie.

The love of Mark’s life was Maggie Arante, a lovely Filipino woman who knew just how to handle a person of his spirit—the good and the bad, the charm and the trouble. Maggie was measured and dignified where Mark was all-in and passionate. When she died a couple years ago from cancer, we all sincerely mourned her passing and knew Mark’s hold on life had grown much more tenuous. When our father, Ted, finally died this year of Parkinson’s disease, Mark was quick to follow; the loss of both these important people had literally broken his heart.

Mark’s spirit was defined by a lifelong love of physical fitness, fast cars, movies, and especially motorcycles. He approached every ride with an intensity that would terrify all but his sister, Erin, with whom he shared this deep passion. Whether he was tearing up the highway or simply talking about his latest ride, his enthusiasm was infectious.

It started young: At the summer cottage in Bass Lake, Ontario, in the 1970s, Mark was always the best water skier, the best windsurfer, the best on horseback. He’d charm all the girls with his good looks and broad shoulders, befriend all the guys, and always knew where to find the best lakeside parties and bonfires. Mark and I were poles apart in character but knew each other well after years in Calgary sleeping just feet apart in our weird “DIY-Dad” bunk beds. We shared a love of music and several of the same friends.

Mark drew strength throughout life from our ever-loving mother, Marilynn Van Zant, whose unflagging dedication gave quality to his relatively short life and probably his best memories. He also had a son, Braven, who was forever in his heart and never far from his world view—no matter how far away or long it had been since they’d seen each other.

Mark’s final months and moments were in Spruce Grove, Alberta, hometown to older sister, Leslie, her husband John, and Leslie’s son, James. Leslie fondly remembers Mark’s avuncular attention to young James, way back when, often picking him up from daycare and keeping him entertained. He did this to be helpful, of course, but also just because he enjoyed it so much.

Mark passed away near Spruce Grove in June as his heart finally gave out. His ashes will be combined with his beloved Maggie’s, carried back across the country to Ontario, and interred alongside maternal grandparents Hue and Vera and their daughter, Bev, in the Biggar family plot in Niagara Falls. Mark always longed for Ontario, where we all came from, and he held particular esteem for Grandpa Biggar. And, so, it is fitting that Mark returns to them: may they all rest together in eternal peace.