To Recovering Maxaholics: One day at a time

My name is Steve Warshal. I am the father of Ize and Zara. We live in Queens Park. Max has been a fixture in our home since he was a little kid – from birthday parties to basketball games, high school antics to holidays in Spain, gap year travels, Stella, Uni adventures and more. I last saw Max over Xmas – chatting and grinning amiably on the way to the Irish. Max was as close to our blood family as possible. And we are all mourning his loss.

Max’s death has sparked an incredible outpouring of village grieving. Whoever was touched by Max - from his peers to us “oldies” - we are all taking care of each other as best we can – with compassion, consideration, hugs, tears and laughter. As a result, we have become more sensitive and supportive of each other; as well as stronger – and hardened – by life’s harsh realities.

It has been a searing experience. As parents, we try and shield our children from such horrific pain. But, we have been collectively “branded”. Today, the wound is fresh and painful, burning in its intensity and hurt. Eventually, the wound will heal, but we will always have the brand burnished in our psyche.

According to Jewish tradition, the good deeds and positive memories live on, while the body is interred in the grave. We all have our wonderful memories and they will now act as a support and refuge for the rest of our lives.

So, how do we collectively and individually move forward after such a massive and unexpected loss? Our friend Christabel lost her 19 year old son a few years ago to a brain hemorrage. How has she dealt with this blow? Her answer is “one day at a time”. I once asked a good friend who was a recovering alcoholic, how can you live the rest of your life without a drink? Her response was “It’s not like that. I only try to get through one day at a time.”

With the help of work, hobbies, sport, outside diversions, and each other’s support, we are getting through one day at a time. The problem is that the process is so damn tough - raw, excrutiating and lonely. And yet, living a full and positive life is the best antidote we have.

Let me end with a comment on the death/life cycle. The day Max died, our nephew and his wife gave birth to a baby girl, Mira. And on March 18th, our niece gave birth to a baby boy in Seattle.
His name is Max.



(Max, Louis, Owen and Ize. I would always make the kids pose for team photos. About age 13-14)