To Max

It's been almost exactly a year since I expected you to turn up at my house in Barcelona for a break from Cadiz as we'd arranged, and almost exactly a year since I found myself writing on this blog with tears in my eyes.

I wish we'd had that week.

It's difficult to look at the photos on this blog without smiling to myself or shaking my head in thought of what was going on at the moments in which those photos were taken and remembering the kind of person you were and will always be in my mind, how could I ever forget, you made me laugh. A lot.

And as Owen said, I wish I could still make you laugh too. Maybe I still am.

It's difficult to look at them without a tear in my eye as well.

As tragic, unbelievable and sad your passing was, you always seem to bring a smile to my face when I remember.

What a quality. An eternal quality.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to be there at the Irish last weekend with everyone, but I have been back to London a few times. Been to see your tree, I know you're impressed with it.

I've seen the boys on a few occasions too.

I've walked through the park a number of times when I've been back in the UK and to know that I won't see you around there or out in Spain still feels like there's lots of unfinished business.

For a guy that had so much more to give, you still managed to give so much to so many people.

More than some people do in a whole long lifetime.

When I think of the petty, mediocre things that go on in this world you remind me of what's important.

Thanks Max, we had lots of good times. I wish we could have more.

It was always fun and you're always living on and inspiring me in my thoughts.

Your friend always,
David Wilson