Dearest Max

Dearest Max,

Thank you. It has been such an honour and a privilege to know you and have you in my life, however brief; you are one of those people that make me have faith in the rest of human kind. If only there were more like you.

I saw Max way before I ever met him. Max and ‘the boys’ all hung around together at school, always laughing, playing football and surrounded by people - everyone wanted to be part of them. Despite being so popular, they weren’t intimidating, always inviting. I was 3 years below max at Hampstead School, but because I knew some of his friends’ younger siblings he started to say hello. Always making an effort to ask how my day was - I think he knew that I secretly fancied him as every time he’d speak to me I’d turn red - he’d play on it by smiling and saying something cheeky in Spanish which I’d half understand. As I got older I used to see him and the boys in The Black Lion in West Hampstead, again we’d always exchange friendly banter. The thing that always struck me most was how he’d always remember things about you and seem genuinely interested in what you had to say - he would make you feel special and interesting. But it was him that was special. To have the ability to be in a crowded pub and make everyone feel like the only person in the room.

I got really close to Max just before he left for Cadiz, in fact it was a few days before he was due to leave and a bunch of people had gone to the South Bank and then to a few bars I think. They ended up in some crazy house party in Cricklewood. I hadn’t seen Max for about a year before that, I didn’t even know he was going to Spain, but as soon as we saw each other he came straight up to me, gave me a massive cuddle and asked if I cared to buy him a drink. The cheek! Of course I did. I was just happy he was speaking to me. Being around Max is like a drug, you can’t get enough, he makes you feel good and that’s addictive.

The party went on till the early hours of the morning and I was pretty gone. Despite it being one of Max’s last nights in London, when most the people were leaving to go home he stayed and looked after me. We spent the whole evening talking and catching up - I couldn’t believe how close I felt him, he enabled me to feel safe whilst being vulnerable. Max would open up about his insecurities which just made you love him more because he wasn’t afraid to be human. When people die, there’s a tendency to dress them up as saints. Max was not a saint, but he was probably one of the most human people I have ever met.

The next evening Max invited me out for a drink. I felt so honoured that he chose to spend his second to last night with me - how could I refuse? I was so nervous - I suppose part of me still felt like a 13 year old school girl with a crush on the school’s golden boy. I didn’t stand a chance. Max met me at Queens Park station and we went for drinks in the long room, from the minute we sat down we didn’t stop talking till we were asked first politely and then not so politely to leave. The whole time that we were in there people kept coming up to Max and shaking his hand and bidding him farewell. Even then it was obvious that Max would be greatly missed.

Max spoke a lot about how nervous he was about going - he knew it was such a great opportunity, but he was worried he wouldn’t fit in and would miss his family and friends too much. From listening to him talk about the important people in his life with such passion and love, you couldn’t help but absorb it and feel like they are yours too. We joked about how long it would take him to ‘run’ Cadiz and how everyone would know his name. This seemed to cheer him up, but then he started worrying about leaving Cadiz to go to Costa Rica.

Max invited me to go to Cadiz to spend a weekend there, I just assumed it was one of those things that people say to be nice, and of course I agreed, not thinking, if I’m being honest, that it would ever happen. Two hours after I left his he called me and said ‘Tasha, are you serious? Do you wanna come? I’m on the internet and I’ve found some cheap tickets.’ I couldn’t believe he was serious and to be honest I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Although I’d known Max for years I’d only just MET him. However something told me to go for it. That was the best decision I’ve ever made.

I arrived in Cadiz on October the 4th 2005. Max’s 23rd birthday. He met me at the airport and spent the whole train journey to his place filling me in on the madness of his first week. I remember him being so upset that he thought he’d offended someone due to a misunderstanding. He truly thought that they didn’t like him. Max hated to upset anyone, it was really important for him to get on with everyone - by the time I left they were like best mates. That’s Max.

Before we went out I gave him a bottle of Champagne which we shared with his housemates Peter, Gertz and Sheryl on his balcony. The boys then gave him a Cadiz football kit which they’d bought for him. He was speechless; later that evening he took me aside and told me how happy he was and that he couldn’t believe how lovely everyone was to him. I think it just reflects how much of an impact Max has on people.

There is so much more to say, but it just comes out in a jumbled mess, I find it hard expressing feelings and doing justice to memories that in my head are so vivid but pale in comparison on paper. There are so many people that I never met or didn’t know that well but feel like I do from the way he spoke about them. You know if you were one of these people because he always made it clear where you stood with him, there was never any bullshit. When we would talk he’d often say that my views and ideals reminded him of himself at my age, I find that such a compliment (if not a little patronizing) because Max believed and lived for the important things in life, family, friends and loved ones. Sometimes I’d look at him and he’d seem so childlike - getting excited and het up about things like a six year old. Other times, he would say something or give me advice that was way beyond his years. Max, you have taught me so much - the way you lived your life, open and spontaneous, considerate and generous - thank you.

Natasha FitzGerald