A Year On

I can't believe it's been a year since Max went. I feel that the day Max did die will always be remembered as the most horrific one of my life. I don't feel it right to compare how I felt then and how I feel now, as only after we accepted and understood this loss did the Cadiz group start any sort of process of personal healing. It is a commonly used phrase to say that time can heal just about anything, but, even for me, who only knew Max for a few months, there will always be moments when I think back on what happened to him and feel the colour drain from my face. Looking back at what actually happened to Max, I can not see it as anything but an incredibly unfortunate event. Max was larking around, but that was Max and to take that away from him would be to extinguish part of his character. He deserved better, without doubt. I have found refuge in thinking about it pragmatically. It makes no sense to keep getting yourself caught up in the tragedy of it. The conclusion of this process for me came when I realised that there was no way of completely feeling better or letting the memories go. However, I think my way of coping is to try to cling onto the other memories I have of him. I've still got the baseball top I was wearing from that night in my wardrobe at uni. I can't get round to cleaning it. It doesn't remind me as much of the moment of Max's death than the amazing time we were having beforehand, so I guess it's more symbolic of how together we were as a group.

I want to also add that my thoughts have been increasingly with Max's family and close friends at this time of the year. In fact, my wishes go out to all those who are reading this blog.

Tomas Corbyn, xx

Max - the best friend I never met

It has taken me a lot of time to pluck up the courage to read this blog, as I have felt for a long time that I had no right to. I was one of the Cadiz Erasmus students, and yet I never met Max, as I arrived in Spain merely hours after his untimely death. One of my best friends from Durham university, Tom, had been in Cadiz since September and before my arrival he had told me about how amazing life out there was. I think Tom could tell that I was apprehensive about coming to an unknown lifestyle in Spain, but he assured me: "Don't worry, I'll get you introduced to all the Erasmus students, we'll have a great time. There's a few English people out here... Steph, Rob, Jo... And wait until you meet Max!"

I had spoken to Rob, Steph and Jo all before I came to Spain via MSN Messenger and email, but for some reason, even though I had Max's email address, I never got in contact with him. I suppose I just assumed I'd get to know him when I got to Cadiz.

When I arrived, Carnival was erupting - it was amazing. I had my heavy bag on this bus that was stuck in the middle of a road blocked with traffic, and I smiled to myself, knowing that from February till June, I was going to have some of the best moments of my life. And yet all the students I met were distraught. Absolutely shell-shocked. I did not realise at that point who Max was, and I don't think I ever will.

From an outsider's point of view, it was amazing to see what an incredible effect someone could have on so many people's lives. It's so strange seeing all these photos of people with Max, people that have since become some of my best friends, and not know the guy in the middle with the ever-present smile and curly hair. The more I read about him, the more I get upset that I never met him. I am certain we would have become amazing friends just from the everyone else's descriptions of him. And in a strange way, without ever meeting Max, and never knowing him or even hearing the sound of his voice, I feel like I do know him. He sincerely reminds me of someone, someone I can't put my finger on... I sort of feel that he reminds me of that person everyone knows. The funny guy, the cool guy, the one that everyone turns to and says, "What's the plan for tonight, mate?". The person you turn to if you have a problem, or if you want someone to cheer you up, or just someone to talk utter rubbish with. This is what Max is to me: the stranger I never met, the centre of attention, the one everyone knew, and most of all, the person everyone secretly wanted to be.

After reading the posts on this blog, I cannot imagine the pain Max's family must have gone through, and are still dealing with. It was very strange to briefly meet Max's parents in Nahu, without meeting the top lad himself, and I take the opportunity to apologise for what must have seemed a very rude introduction from myself. Mr and Mrs O'Connell - I was terrified.

The pain must be equally great for Max's friends, the ones from home, and the ones he met Cadiz. It is through you all that Max lives on. The only solace I hope you can find is that, although this person you knew, this life and soul of each and every party, has unfortunately passed on, please take comfort in the fact that you did know him. Although he was a big part of your life before passing away, please be glad that he did touch your life. In a very strange way, I feel he has touched mine.

Thanks, Ross Urmston

From Amy

Hello everyone,

I want to say that my thoughts have been on Max, his family and all his friends constantly since returning back from visiting everyone in London last week. I thought I was going to be alright yesterday, today, all week, but I'm not and wish I could be with the people that matter to me the most at such a time as this. Sometimes I think that being so far away in Leeds is beneficial in someway in helping to deal with what has happened but at the moment I just want to be with my friends.

I've come into work today because I want to keep my mind occupied but it is impossible, Max is all I can think about. I've got some really vivid memories of my time with him but equally vivid is every minute of this day last year.

My mum gave a book to read a while ago, and I've reading it again in the past week. There's a passage that I want to share with you all that I hope will touch you, as it did me the moment I read it:

'For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.'

I will always love Max for the presence he had when he walked into a room, his smile, his hugs; his undeniable ability to cheer us up after lending such a good ear. These are all the things I miss the most and always will. I now value my friendships in such a greater way (if possible) than ever before in my life. It has changed me ... and Max's ability to have such an effect on the people he met is what has become clear to me in the past year.

All my love,
Amy

From Susanne

Hello,

I just wanted to say that my thoughts are very much with you and of course Max today. I saw you briefly yesterday, thank you for opening your house to us Newcastle lot. I was in halls with Max in first year and met him through Amal and Tom Robinson. He came across straight away as a funny, friendly and very cool guy. Friends of mine turned out to also be friends of his as we all made more connections by 2nd and 3rd year (I lived with Jo Lewin, Ruth Barton etc on 29 Devonshire Pl in third year.) Having re-started studies on a different course I ended up in Max's film class and his tutorials on camera angles and pre-exam cramming were splendid help. As was the fact that he seemed to already know everyone in that year which neither of us started in, and I didn't know anyone in that class. He was a joy to be in lectures with, the banter making up for the at times dull material and he would always volunteer an answer or two.

The photos that I have attached are from three separate nights out. Sorry about the quality. One is from our Devonshire Place 'Cowboys and Indians' party, about the end of Jan 2005. Two more are from Sophie Hodges' birthday supper at Heartbreak Soup restaurant, January 15th 2005 and one more is before a big night out to StoneLove, May 2005.

Warmest regards,
Susanne Olbrich

From Hannah Cutts

I have been wanting to write again on the blog for a while and feel that now is a good time if there can be a 'good' time for such a thing. I am sorry not to have been in London over this last weekend and Monday.

This month has left me feeling very sad. As I go from day to day in my life in Manchester I think about Max and life seems to have moved on, but nearly a year later since Max's death it's as though nothing has moved on at all. The realisation that he is not coming back seems so dreadfully unfair and unjust. I knew Max as my friend's little brother and my little brother's friend so I don't feel as close to him as others. If I feel the way I do I can't even begin to imagine the loss Seamus, Victoria, Rachel, the boys and Max's closest friends are feeling. I want you to know that my love and strength goes out to you.

I feel an emormous love and warmth towards the community I grew up in and know that no matter how much time passes people don't really change. The friendships and relationships that have formed and reformed over this year are a credit to Max and his amazing abliity to bring people together.

I last spoke to Max just after Christmas and was I relaying messages to my brother who was driving about what they were going to get up to over New Year. Of course Max had a plan and it all sounded like a lot of fun. Secretly I wish I had been involved too!! I spoke to Owen afterwards and he said they had had a really great night.

Max was a lovely, smiley character who has inspired me to live for the moment.

My love and thoughts are with you all always,
Hannah

Thoughts from far away

We have been thinking so much about Max recently and somehow the space he's left behind seems even bigger. If the gap is raw and painful for us, we wonder what it must be like for those who are closest to him. Max has brought together a whole community of people who will all be at different stages and depths of grieving, but nevertheless united in trying to come to terms with their own sense of loss.

We have been remembering the way Max weaved and tumbled his way through our lives since he was a baby, growing through his teenage years into such a fine young man. Through this we have begun to understand the profound impact these 23 years had on his friendship with our son Owen and the love and brotherhood that bonded the five `boys´ together, namely Max, Louis, Dash, Isaac and Owen.

As we travel through South America we are reminded of the journeys Max, Rosie, the Boys and their friends have made through the world. As we stumble with our Spanish, we realise how Max was continuing his own journey in Spain and how his own understanding of this language was opening up new relationships and experiences for him.

Over the last year we have witnessed such compassion between those closest to Max and the vast community that his loss has brought together. The openess and humanity shown by Victoria, Seamus and Rachel have inspired ways for us to celebrate and mourn. The funeral and wake, the meals and drinks, the walks and talks, the football matches, the hugs, the sculpture and of course the tree have all provided us with opportunities to share our grief and to try and find ways to come to terms with what has happened.

We are so sorry we cannot be there at this time but send our love and thoughts to all of you who will be meeting up at this time.

Peter and Lindsay

I just remembered 'Smiley Max',

the famous poem by Remel, Louis' nephew. It is way down there near the begining of the blog. It could use some more lines...have a look...its brilliant

Thinking about Max

It's very true that now it has come to this time in the year I think of Max all the time. I find myself thinking and almost reliving the day in which I found out. I remember every detail like it was yesterday. The shock, the disbelief, thinking it was some horrible sick joke, the sadness and then the gradual realization of what this would mean for so many people - the incredible number of people that would be so devastated by this and how life for so many would never really be the same. Thinking about that day fills me with grief and sadness but thinking about Max can only really make me smile.

I think about him in the year room, at the pub, on the doorstep of the Deli in Queen's Park, in the park, in the bottom of his garden, at Rosy's house, at Anna's house, in the Long Room, in the Irish, in his kitchen, the list is endless. Lately I have found myself thinking about a particular memory over and over again.

It was four years ago on our gap year travels, we were in Malaysia (Perinthian Island), I was strolling to the sea on the most beautiful white beach. It was about half past eight in the morning. It was boiling and I was grumpy as I had about three hours sleep because it was just too hot - I was walking to the sea to cool off. I remember looking down the beach and about ten yards away there was a blond haired boy, looking slightly sunburned and a bit pissed off. He seemed to be really struggling with his massive rucksack in the sand that was sinking under his feet, concentrating on each step and looking down, he didn’t notice me. ‘Max!’ I screamed. He looked up and after he had thrown his bag on the ground, we laughed and hugged and jumped about.

We marveled at how amazing it was that we had managed to find each other on the most beautiful beach. The last time we had seen each other had been on a cold winter's night, pale and wrapped up outside a pub in West Hampstead and now here we were. Rosy was further behind him, then Anna, then Ellie. They were exhausted after traveling a long while but everyone was tanned, happy and full of the traveling spirit. From then on, for me, traveling just got better and better as we were all together (Max, Louis, Isaac, Owen, Dash, Rosy, Anna, Ellie, Me, Lucy and more…) for some parts, then apart, then would meet up again in different parts of Asia. Endless days of lounging around on beaches where the main activity seemed to be eating and playing cards, with a little bit of swimming in between. Looking back especially in the light of what has happened now it was blissful untouched paradise.

I remember Max never leaving Rosy's side when she had a stomach bug in Bali, reading to her and bringing her food etc. I remember the big meal we had before Ellie and Anna were heading for Australia, we waited about two hours for food and were so hungry we all ate in silence. I remember Max arguing with Eleanor at about seven in the morning on the way to another boat, they were discussing this Bob Marley song, they were both getting equally agitated and in the end were both wrong! I remember hilarious cab journeys where Max would take charge, sit in the front and talk to the driver all the way home, everyone in the back half listening and a bit monged out. I remember arranging to meet in Regent's Park for this mini free festival the summer before last, we shared a bottle of red wine and danced in the middle of the day in a boiling tent - I remember being so pleased to see him as it had been ages and the day was so great.

So many funny little thoughts that more often that than not have me smiling or laughing out loud. I want to keep thinking of all these things, all these things that made Max one of the most charming people I will ever know, funny, smart good-looking, unique and terribly missed by so many.

Chloe

Remembering Max at the Irish Centre

This Friday, the 23rd of February, we will be remembering Max's wonderful self as well as the friendships we all shared with him at the trusty old Irish Centre. Also known as the Corrib Rest on Salusbury Road, the Oyster Bar has been set aside for Max's crew, we will be there from 7 pm. Everyone and anyone is welcome!

This is a very hard time for everyone that knew Max, as it has almost been exactly a year since we lost him. I am sure all of his friends have been thinking about him more than usual, or like me, feelings of a year ago are flooding back, feelings of shock and disbelief. I hope that everyone will come together for Max, as they always did when he was alive.

I look forward to being with everyone, Dash

Memories of Max

My memories of Max are more like a series of pictures: a blonde, curly-haired, smiley, funny and lanky boy. In my mind he's either playing football in Queen's Park, or at a gathering in one of the Queen's Park/Hampstead school hangouts (the Irish, The Old Black Lion, The Long Room.) I also think of him at school, the long Spanish lessons we had together, when Max always seemed to effortlessly (and frustratingly) do so well and, even with his broad English accent could string a sentence together much better than most of us. I hear his wacky insults, which made me smile and that I imagine were used more to make people laugh, than cause anyone real offence!

I wish I could have seen more of Max since the Hampstead days. When he died I hadn't seen him for a few years. As does sometimes happen, I was one of the drifters who went from seeing myself as 'one of the crowd' to a bit more of an outsider, but one who liked and still likes nothing better than to be reunited with my friends.

I always used to love coming back home from uni and seeing everyone from school, usually for one drunken evening at the pub. And Max would usually be there with a jolly greeting along the lines of 'Yes Bridie!' (For some reason that's always what I hear when I think of him!) Even if we might not spend ages chatting, I felt comfortable in Max's presence and it was always clear that he was a much loved and central part of the crowd.

I can remember one time, I think I must have been back from uni for the weekend or during the summer holidays, Max and I bumped into each other on Salusbury Road. We both stopped and shared a quick cuddle, which was always a rather awkward feat, given our difference in height! We had a chat, one of those ones where you have to condense everything you've been doing over the last year or two into a few minutes. But I can remember thinking how sweet and charming he was and how good looking and that, even though we'd only spoken to each other for a short time, I totally felt like he had time for me and wasn't just chatting with me out of politeness.

I have another memory of one of his birthdays at the Irish. Once we'd all been turfed out of the pub onto the street, a load of people crowded round Max and gave him the birthday bumps. I want to giggle when I think about it. Sometimes I wonder whether I imagined it, because none of my friends seem to remember, but I reckon we were all pretty drunk at the time which could explain the memory loss!

Max was and still is an intrinsic part of the group of boys my girlfriends and I used to swoon over and would often refer to as 'The Queen's Park Boys'. I still catch myself saying his name when I talk about them. His name just is naturally there on the tip of your tongue whenever you mention Owen, Isaac, Louis and Dash.

When I heard Max had died I found myself refusing to believe it at first. I suppose, without thinking about it, I always assumed we were all invincible. As my friend Renne cried on the other end of the phone, all I could manage were a few words, some vain attempts to comfort her and expressions of my own immediate feelings of shock and sadness and disbelief. The moment Max's death became real to me was just before his funeral, when I was stood in the middle of the huge crowd gathered outside his house. It was impossible not to be beset by my own sadness and the sadness of those around me.

I can remember the procession around Queen's Park and how overwhelmingly sad it was to watch Max's family and closest friends walk behind his coffin. I could only imagine how they felt and feel, but hope that they were and are able to gain even a small amount of comfort from the sheer volume of Max's friends that came to share in their grief at the loss of their son and brother and best friend on such an immensely difficult day.

If there's one thing Max's life and death have taught me it's not to take anyone for granted and to appreciate loved ones and old friends you might once have passed in the street. It's taught me to stop and say hello, even if it's just for a few minutes, life is too short not to.

I will always remember Max as a smiley, energetic, hilarious and sweet guy, a real gentleman and I really do feel happy to have known him and loved him in my own way.

My thoughts are with Max's family and closest friends especially at this time; Owen, Isaac, Louis, Dash, Rosie and everyone else also. I'm sending you all love and positive thoughts.

Rest in peace Max.

Love Bridie xx

One year on

It is now a very short time to the first anniversary of Max’s death. Last year we received a call at about six in the morning from a brave young man in Cadiz who had to tell us what had happened to our son. Our lives since then have been irreparably changed. Sometimes it can seem like a lifetime ago, sometimes only yesterday. In that time I have come slowly to understand that Max will never come home again. It is still unbearable that our son, so full of life, in a matter of seconds ceased to exist, that his tall lithe lanky body and warm complex maturing personality came to an end with no warning, no reprieve.

I look back on his short life and am glad that he was able to make so much of the time he had, but I am so sad that I shall never know what he would have become, and that his potentially interesting and fulfilling, if possibly not always easy, future has been lost. Most of all, I am so sad for Max that he has been denied all this. I miss the noise and activity he brought into the house, the friends, laughter, dirty washing, fun, excitement, bad temper, loud music, kitchenfuls of feeding boys, and embarrassed requests beginning ‘could you just lend me …’.

The funeral procession and ceremony remain vivid in our memories as a powerful and loving tribute to him, and showed us that our sadness is shared by so many others.

This blog has grown into a wonderful commentary on his life, and is a comfort to us. I have been so touched by reading all the different contributions and have wanted to respond to every one but too often found it too emotionally difficult to put the words together. The posts have told us so much about the Max we didn’t know so well.

This photo is the last one I ever took of him. I think it shows him content and at ease - on a beach in the sun.

Sunday 25 February is one year on from the Sunday on which Max died. We would be very pleased to see anyone who would like to call round in the afternoon for tea, cakes, drink, etc.

Love to all, Victoria

From Declan

I was looking at the blog the other day and stumbled upon some photos of smily Max. For the first time in a while I felt good at looking at pictures of Max. It was like seeing an old friend again; an old friend who always looked happy and seemed content. When I first heard of Max's passing I don't know why but I looked at my phone and saw his name and number in my phonebook, and remembered that about just six weeks previously he had phoned me ... this had become my memory of Max almost ... I couldn't delete the number then and still can't. Looking at the blog the other day and reading some of the messages made me see how Max is remembered and lives on. His friendliness and happy go lucky nature will always live on through those that knew him and that is special. My friendship with Max definitely matured with age. I remember being about 13 and playing football in The Moberly with him...we were on opposing sides and were both trying to beat as many players as we could when we had the ball and when we didn't we would almost hack each other off the ball; all very serious stuff at that age. The Easter before last, nearly 10 years later, we were playing football in the park and both barged into each other and laughed ... we'd grown up (probably I had more of the growing up to do than Max). That moment meant a lot to me and still does. Although there are times that I get sad about Max's passing and consequences, e.g. him not having a son who would've been a class footballer and Max the best teacher football-wise a kid could have, I am so happy to have known Max and been able to call him a friend, and have been part of his life in which he made everyone he met feel good. Rest in peace mate. Declan

Thinking of you

The main things I remember about Max are his ever present friendliness and trusty smile.

I remember having a laugh with him, whether in the park, in a pub, or in a club.

I remember his beaming face always accompanying his embrace.

I remember his unintentional football lessons and unattemptable tricks.

I remember a laid back lad always happy to catch up and have a chat.

A mate always to be missed and never forgotten.

I haven't been in England much over the last couple of years but I know of the suffering and love that has been shown because of the passing away of Max. I'm happy to see a tree has been planted in the park to celebrate Max's life and the happiness he brought to so many people. I'm thinking of all the Queens Park crew and family, and remembering with great affection the smiling lad, Max.

Alex

A letter

Dear family and friends,

I am lecturer at the university of Cadiz and was Max's coordinator. I was pregnant when I met Max and when everything happened I was on maternity leave. One of my colleagues informed me about the accident and I met the family when they came to the faculty. Some months later another colleague found hidden among many documents, students' assignments, etc., a note that Max left under my door before Christmas. I have scanned the text and put it up in the blog, as I feel I should be doing something to honour him.

[Translation in first comment]

Sending very warm regards to his family and friends

Dr. Carmen Fernandez Martin
Department of French and English
Universtity of Cadiz

PS: I'm enclosing also a picture of my baby