sunny days

Hello,
this is Millie, a general Queens Park head and close friend of Zara. I've been thinking about Max quite a bit recently and I know exactly why.

The aftermath of his death and the funeral was a hard and sad time, however, many people naturally filtered back to their lives and got on with things. I knew the arrival of summer would make me more aware of his absence. I can't walk past or through the park without conjuring him in my head.

I walk past the end of his road and think of conversations we had about the funny gas smell on 'our' corner of the park. I ring on Zara's (and Ize's) doorbell and wait to see any combination of the Ize, Max, Owen, Louis, Dash crew lounging in the kitchen. I lie on the grass by the bandstand and wait for the game of kick ups to begin.

For me Max is part of the furniture, like the bandstand itself. Always there, part of the scenery of our sunny special park. He's just the person you want to bump into when you cruise past the Salusbury to see if anyone else is floating around. You're guaranteed an enlightening, entertaining and enthusiastic conversation even if you hadn't seen him in months.

I miss the huge park gatherings that haven't really happened so far this summer. I can't help but wonder how much that is to do with his absence. The post World Cup kickabouts lack a certain flair that even I, a strict observer can detect.

I've got a picture of Max, Rosy, Anna, Eleanor and Lelia in the park about 4 years ago. There we are, in one of the many combinations of Parkers just being together on the grass, waiting for something or nothing to happen.

I try my best to imagine that Max is still there, lounging, smiling and interacting with whoever is in earshot.

x
Millie

For Max

I am Sandar, Isaac’s mum. Ize is one of The Boys and I am one of The Mums. We have been growing up with each other for many years.

I enjoyed being part of them in my role as chauffeur, mean mummy, or cheer leader. Isaacowenmaxdashandlouis was a five headed being which roamed around Queens Park, collected in the local school ground, slumped over the furniture, and raided the fridge. They wore the same clothes, loved the same sport (but not teams), and grew into amazingly gorgeous young men.

Max was in a group of boys who were his equal. He was loved and loved in return openly and unreservedly. When Max was too wilful, they tempered him. When they were too reticent, he encouraged them. When the five boys were in the house I would hear their constant teasing and joking. They might be watching telly or playing video games but one could still hear Owen’s wise-guy cracks, Max’s wacky observations, Dash’s caustic take, Louis’s quiet comment, or Ize's sensible remark. The boys were lucky to have found each other and as the years went on, they knew it.

The Mums became friends as well. We ferried the boys to playgroup, dropped them off for parties or play after school. We arranged half-term visits and holidays together. We performed at school events as The Housewives from Hell and gained quite a reputation as embarrassing mums. We put them on the bus to Gordon Brown, the ski trips, the gap year, and slowly we too were woven into the fabric of the community of Boys. We are all so mixed up that my love for Isaac overlaps with my love for them all. I didn’t even realise this was happening.

I miss Max. His lanky droll manner, his twinkling eyes, his slightly nasal voice, his sweetness and vulnerability. I remember his steady progression from a boy who was adorable but slightly maddening to one who was witty and lovely. I remember chats in the kitchen when Max was worried or dejected about life. He was so open and real about his concerns. I remember leading the boys somewhere when they were little and Max as usual was ambling behind the group, amiable and absorbed. “Get with the program, Max”, I would shout and he’d quicken his pace, for a moment.

At the big football match for Max a friend explained to me why Max was such a good footballer. He said that most people played by strategic rules but Max played by Freedom.

I have found Max’s death to be unbearable. Tears are liable to well up in my eyes at anytime and catch me by surprise. I know that our memories will be forever divided between when Max was alive and After Max died. He couldn’t have imagined such a thing.

I am greatly helped by our mutual support. We stand together like musk ox taking the cruel winter blast of death - dumb but strengthened by the herd. Is this what will make it bearable? Is this what will carry us through the next year? It is so early and we all have so much further to go. However, I am comforted by the love and care Max gave and got. Reading your memories and stories helps me see Max again and know him a bit better.

The last time I saw Max, I was passing his house, he was in his front bedroom. He had been over the night before to say goodbye, so he had obviously missed his plane. He looked out, shrugged, and we both blew extravagant kisses to each other. My goodbye, it turned out, was joyous and ridiculous and spontaneous. Quite fitting for this wonderful guy.

Love, Sandar

"TODAY" (16/6/06)

I swam out to sea today
I cried your name
They said you are dead
I cry again.

You died at sea
So I swam deep
To find the waters
Where you sleep

I swam to be
Part of the sea
So you could be
A part of me

Where are you Max?
You're far away
But in our broken hearts you stay.

Some feelings about Max being gone

I oscillate between two feelings: unbearable pain and numbness (occasionally interspersed with moments of hysterical laughter). There is a need to numb the pain because it gets too much to bear. But then when you’re numb you feel like you’re not in touch with his death, like it’s not real, or like Max is not real, and then you get terrified that you’re accepting the fact that Max is dead, that Max being dead is going to become normal, and Max being alive is a thing of the past. And then you think of him being alive, when you were with him, saw him, heard him, touched him. And then you can’t believe that HE is actually DEAD. Then you cry and cry and scream at him through the walls and beat your fists into the furniture and ask the ceiling ‘Why?’ But you never get an answer. And you can’t believe you won’t see or hear from him ever again. That no-one will. And for the rest of all our lives Max will always be dead. Then life looks really long and hard and bleak and you long for the ache to go away for a while.

So you get up, you go somewhere, you do something, you see someone, something makes you smile. And the pain is numbed. And the numbness feels ok for a while. And pretty soon the periods of numbness get longer and the periods of twisting agony get further apart. And soon you start to actually enjoy doing the other, not Max-related things, when you’re not thinking about Max for a while. When you’re not thinking about the fact that he’s actually dead. Or about his parents who’ve lost their son; or his sister who is now an only child; or the friends who knew him since they were tiny and expected always to know him; or the others who all thought of Max as one of their best friends because he had the time for them; or the girl he was seeing who really thought a lot of him and now thinks of him even more; or about yourself and what you’ve lost, what you shared together for so many years, how you helped to make each other, how you sometimes became confused because you couldn’t tell where you ended or where he began, how he cared so much about you and now there’s so much of you he’ll never know; or about how he was so young and vibrant and would love to be alive right now, just like he used to be; or about how his death is such a waste of life.

You don’t think about all these sad, sad things for a while. For a minute, an hour, a few hours, a day, a few days. Until the next time it hits you or washes over you. And then you think about all the sad things that come from Max dying. And even if it’s been a couple of days since you really, really thought about it, it still hurts just as much, but you’re glad that it hurts you so. Because if you hurt this much then you know that he was real, and that you loved him, and that you shared so much life together, and that he must have lived, before he died.

Rosy

Missing Max

Hi,

My name's Jo and I was part of the close-knit group in Cadiz. I've been thinking a lot of Max lately, especially as the seasons are definitely changing, and I can't help but think that here in Cadiz, this was what we were waiting for...beach life. However, with Max not here to enjoy it, life has taken a turn and it's not how we expected it to be. It's also such a shame, as Max was one of the people who appreciated the scenery and laid back lifestyle here the most. His flat was also directly opposite a gorgeous beach, so we used to hang out there everyday, mainly to facilitate his totty spotting. During the winter months I used to get a morning weather update from Max via text to let me know "it's blazin' mate, get over here on the terrace for some tanning and Spanish grammar" - well he certainly knew how to make learning the subjunctive tense a lot more appealing! He always said he couldn't wait for the summer and he, Steph and I had planned to stay here for the summer together and it's such a shame that he won't be here with us.

Max was always the one to make the most of a situation or moment, which is one of the things I loved the most about him...he made everything fun! I remember the day after my 21st birthday party, Max, Steph and I met up to re-run the night's events, and as a result of the stonking hangovers, Steph and I would've been more than content to sit back and chill at his with cups of tea and nibbling his endless supply of white choc with smarties inside, but Max had other plans and said we couldn't head home until we'd explored all the backstreets of Cadiz. Steph and I always say what a fun day this was, especially the kiddies park! Max wasn't even deterred by the rain, and insisted on walking at least half the way back to take in the views. A true positivist until the end!

Despite Max's admirable ability to find something to do out of nothing, as many people have written on this blog, the thing I miss the most is doing nothing in particular with Max; just hanging out at his, making random, yet interesting converstion around the kitchen whilst cooking, and his good ear and honest advice. We'd often sit around and cook together in his kitchen, but beforehand there would always be the eternal argument over which music to cook to - he assumed that I, being a girl from Watford would love his Garage music, but he was wrong, so we'd hussle over songs until always agreeing on Ray Charles, The Pharcyde or Beats Assailant 'Dirty Dozen', and Max was the only other person I knew who also knew the last listed song, so I always used to put it on in the bar I DJ at when he walked in, which was swiftly followed by "Yes Jo". I miss seeing those curly blonde locks strolling in the bar, but whenever I hear these songs I smile and think of him!

The other day my housemate Simon was playing old videos and I could hear Max's voice from my room. Hearing his voice made me realise even more how much I miss him, it made his absence more evident yet, and although it was painful to listen to, it was also lovely, as I could feel a little closer to him for a moment again and hold onto his voice and laughter and his silly jokes. That's also why I think this blog is such a good idea too, as you feel like you're keeping the legend of Maxieflash alive, so keep the stories flowing.

One last thing, I'm attemting to attach some photos with this blog, but I am terrible with computers, it they come out, there should be two of Max and I on the swings - he was attemting to do a perfect jump into the camera, but it didn't quite work out. There should also be another of Max with Fabien, a friend here in Cadiz, on my birthday. It was fancy dress and Max had come as a hip-hop ghetto boy so he was doing his take on that in the photo. And finally there's a photo that I took of him on his balcony...a typical day, which you all probably received in an email, we were just amazed at how "blazin'" it was so we took photos to send back in emails to make everyone envious of the weather. He said he would've given his friends a prize if anyone had worked out that the picture he sent, entitled 'sunrise' wasn't really sunrise (we were never up before 3pm) as the sun wouldn't have risen and set in the same place (sharp thinking lad).

Love to everyone,

Jo

For Max

Dear Max,

It has taken me a while to write this because, to tell you the truth I really haven't been able to face up to it. But today I remembered a conversation me and you had at mine and Owens birthday party on January 7th, when we promised each other we would stop putting things off, that we would keep emailing, keep calling when you were back in London and make sure we would see each other. Chloe and I always wanted to live in Queens Park just so we could be closer to you lot and coz it was so bloody hard getting you out of da area ya na!!! Shit babe, I really miss you. I have been seeing the boys but wish it could be more often, people have started to get on with their lives but now you are with us everyday and every moment. I wish I told you how much I loved you, from the moment you kissed me in the library at hampstead to arguing with you in Spanish because you always knew how to wind me up, to you and Rosie being so in love, I have cherished and enjoyed being your friend. Memories come back to me at times I don't expect and I wish I could freeze them, step in and get a great big hug from you, a warm neck breaking hug. I will never stop celebrating you darling, you have made such an effect on all the lives you have been part of, and not many people can say that.

I LOVE YOU from elena smellena!!

Els xxx

From his Belgian friend in Cadiz

Hi,

my name is Simon, I was one of Max' good friends here in Cadiz. I've been wanting to write something to this blog for a long time now, but I just couldn't find the courage to do it. The last week it has become clear to me that there is still a lot of pain left in me and that I loved Max more then I ever imagined. I realised that last week, when I was going out, and I passed the place where he fell in the water, and I just started crying and had to go home after that. And then just now, as I was watching some video's I made earlier this year, my housemate (she knew Max very well too) bursted out in tears by hearing the sound of Max' voice. It was then I decided I had to write to this blog, and I felt guilty I hadn't done it before.

I, like all of the other Erasmus-students here in Cadiz, have only known Max for about 5 months, but that was enough time to see what a brilliant person he was. He became one of my best friends here, and together with the English we formed a group of friends that saw each other every day and over time became unseparable. We hung out together almost every night and it was us he was with on the night of the accident. That night was the turning point of this year, nothing has ever been the same after that. The first 5 months here have been the best of my life, and Max had a lot to do with that. He was always so full alive, always the one to cheer you up when you were feeling a bit down and always the one to give you that one great compliment that would make up for a bad day. I never thought I would miss this that much. I guess you always kind of take these things for granted until they're not there anymore. I wish now that I could have told him how much I appreciated his friendship and how big an aspect of this year he was for me. When I look back on this year in Cadiz now, with the end in sight, I split in up in 2 periods: there's the time I had with Max, and the time I had without him. I whish I could have known him forever!

My deepest sorry to the family and friends,
Simon Vandekerckhove

PS: This is a picture of me and Max in better times