On the first anniversary of Marin’s passing, we asked everyone who ever had any opportunity to meet Marin to share their stories with us. Thank you for allowing us to share it with others.

How did you know Marin: Old teammate Second City

When I first joined Second City, I never really felt like I fit in. Joining the team was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead I felt like an outsider. Walking into a room where everyone seemed to have their place, already knew the inside jokes, and the routines. Then I met Marin. She had this way of making people feel like they’d been there all along, like they weren’t just a part of the team, but part of something bigger—part of a family. She never really let anyone feel alone. She was the first to see me. Because of her, I’ll never forget how it feels to truly belong. And she had this way of filling up a room without even trying. If you were lucky enough to stand close to her, you felt it too. She made it easier to breathe in a place where I thought I never would. With her, I started to feel like I was part of something real, something that mattered. And when she was gone, it felt like that sense of belonging went with her. The game didn’t feel the same, I didn’t feel the same. Eventually, I walked away from it all, but no matter how far I go, she’s still with me. She’d want me to keep finding my place, to keep showing up for others the way she showed up for me. I carry her with me every day—in the way I remind myself to be kind to others the way she was kind to me, in the way I try to laugh a little louder when things get hard.

Losing her hurts in a way I can’t put into words, but I know she’d want me to keep going. And even though I don’t step onto that field anymore, I know that because of her, I’ll never really be alone. I can’t count how many times I would catch myself looking for her, on the field and in the moments when I needed to hear her voice telling me, “You’ve got this.” I didn’t expect the weight of it to feel so heavy. I didn’t expect to miss her in ways that were deeper than just the game. But the truth is, I missed the way she made me feel seen, how she made me feel like I was part of something important. We weren’t the closest, and if I’m being honest, we didn’t talk that much. We had our moments—brief conversations here and there after practice, but it wasn’t like we had a deep connection or long talks about life. But still, somehow, I always felt like she understood me. It’s strange, looking back. I wasn’t one of the people she hung out with every day, but there was an unspoken connection, a sense that even in the quietest moments, she cared. When I doubted myself, she would be there with that simple smile or a quick word of encouragement, and for a moment, it was like everything else faded away. She didn’t have to say a lot to make me feel seen.

I got a tattoo in her honor, not because we were the closest, but because she left a mark on me that I can’t ignore. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the people who make the biggest difference are the ones who don’t always speak the loudest. She didn’t need to talk to change my world, she just needed to be. And in being there, she taught me that I was enough. She taught me that presence doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. It’s hard to explain how someone can leave such an impact when you never talked much. But I think sometimes, you don’t need to speak to connect. Her presence, the way she made me feel like I was worth something, was enough. It’s like she had this gift of quietly making people feel seen, even without saying much. I realized that the impact she had on me was never about words or grand moments. It was about the silent understanding, the way she saw people without needing them to be anything more than who they were.