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