Its been a year since I've visited this blog, but it feels like a decade. What was once a source of pride and cherished moments is now an excruciating reminder of the loss our family has suffered. One year ago, today, our precious boy, Max, passed away in his sleep. It has been the single worst thing that has ever happened to us and hurts as much today as it did on November 14th, 2013.
Max was one of the most perfect boys you could ask for. He always had a smile to share and was so playful. There were few things he didn't enjoy, as long as he was around family. He was the yin to Noah's yang and we could see such a special bond developing between the two. Max was such a good boy and one that deserved such a great life.
Max passed away on a gloomy Seattle day, and for Emily and me, that is the way that most days have remained. Even with two incredible boys that continue to thrive and amaze us each day, there is a deep, dark hole of pain and loss that seems to never end. Max, like Cole and Noah was a cornerstone in our family, and without him, things are just amiss. When a joyful moment comes about, there is an equally crushing moment with the realization that Max isn't there to take part. When Cole and Noah play or fight like brothers should, there is a sadness that Max isn't adding to the mayhem. And for all future milestones big and small, Max will be looking down on us, and we will be yearning for him.
Its a horrific thing to lose a child. It brings extreme grief, pain, depression, exhaustion, and confusion. It suppresses your will to go on and makes you question everything you know. It creates doubt about yourself and decisions you make and can completely paralyze you. It is something I thought only happened to others especially after we'd been through 18 combined weeks in the NICU and all of our children were thriving. Losing a child is something that no one should ever have to endure, for the impact is unimaginable. We hear that a lot, "I can't imagine." You really can't.
If the last year is akin to an eternally gloomy day, there have been rays of sunlight and rainbows that have been seen. We are truly blessed for the friends and family that supported us 365 days ago and continue to do so today. I am amazed by the outpouring of love and support by people we've known from a young age, to people we've recently grown to appreciate. Whether it be stopping by to provide some company or sending meals, we've seen so many selfless acts on our behalf. In May, a gathering was held called the Max K, which was a fundraiser for the local SIDS awareness chapter. Our friends acted on their own to plan and host this event to honor Max and we were so touched by everyone involved. It was one of the more loving things that we've ever witnessed. All of the support from friends and family has been incredibly impactful, to say the least, and very much kept things holding together for us.
I've wanted to write this blogpost for some time, but the timing never seemed right. As I say that, I realize there is never "right" timing for documenting the passing of a child. How could there possibly be. But not writing would have been the wrong thing to do. This blog has been a bit of a documentary of our family and to not include the single most important family event that we've encountered would have been to throw it all away. As Noah and Cole are too young to comprehend how much of an effect the loss of Max will have on their life, I hope they are able to look back and realize just how much of a brother Max was during his 7 months with us. He was and always will be an incredible son and member of this family. And we will miss him every minute of every day.
The excerpt below is the letter from dad to son, read at Max's service, but thought of every day.
Maximus, Maximus, how can this be? How can it be that you've left your mom, dad and brothers. How can it be that we never get to see your smiling face again? How can it be that our precious little boy will only be in memories? Max, your absence has created a hole in this family that can never be filled and we struggle to understand every minute of every day.
We knew you were Max before you came into this world, from Max of Where the Wild Things Are. You were always the troublemaker in the womb, kicking and dancing and making mischief of one kind. We knew that when we met you, that wasn't going to change one bit, and it certainly didn't. And Max, we knew you were going to be a special boy from the moment we started getting to know you. We'll just never have the opportunity to find out how truly special you were meant to be.
Max, even though you and Noah are genetically identical, you were each one of a kind. You were the easy going, fun loving one. You were always ready to give a smile and have a good time. Noah was eager to roll around and curious to check out the world around, but you were perfectly content, just taking in what was in your viewpoint and loving every minute of it. And when you found your feet, that was just about the best gift that could have ever been given to a little boy. You were our little roley poley boy who didn't have a worry in the world and was just so happy to be next to the ones he loved. And boy were you loved.
I am so thankful for the time I got to spend with you little buddy. The last 7 months were a blur of elation compared to the last 7 days of burden and sorrow. I treasure every minute I got to spend rocking you to sleep in the late evening hours and am so thankful you just weren't ready to sleep. And when I finally gave up and brought you back to our bed to let you hang out with your mom and me, you just smiled and giggled, like it was your plan all along. I'll also remember how you grew to enjoy bath time most recently. On your first bath at home, you cried and screamed and hated the water. But the last time we got you in the tub you were kicking and splashing and giggling just like a baby boy should. There are hundreds of other great memories I have of you Max and it brings me such peace that I can call on those forever.
One thing I'm really struggling to think about is all of the firsts you were going to experience... your first steps, your first words, your first swing of a baseball bat, among 1000 others. I can't come to grips that you won't be taking these in with Noah right beside you. Every time we reach a milestone age, my heart will be stricken with sadness when I don't see you alongside your brother. And I know he'll be missing his best friend and wishing so badly you were there with him.
Buddy, you have left a huge hole in this family. We were meant to be a family of family of five and your absence is just impossible to understand. Whenever I see Cole and Noah together I am overcome with sadness, knowing that you aren’t there. You, Noah and Cole were going to be the band of brothers and the three musketeers. A truly special bond that I was so excited to witness. We could already see it forming at such an early age as well. You and Noah were partners in crime. Laughing and playing together, stealing and sharing toys, learning to eat together, but most importantly thriving together. And Cole loved you so much. He isn't able to ask the question but we know he's wondering where you are. He still points to you in pictures and says your name as only we understood.... Maaaa. He was just learning how to tell you apart from Noah. We know he loved you so much and he's just trying to figure out when his brother is coming home.
Max, I've tried to find a silver lining in your passing, to help ease the pain. I've thought that maybe we'll be able to give Cole and Noah a little more love, but there is no way we could have loved any of you any more than we already do. I've taken solace in knowing that Cole and Noah don't understand how big a devastation this is on their lives, but I know one day they will comprehend and it will be just as devastating when they come to realize the brotherhood they are missing. No, little Max, there is no silver lining in your passing. Only pain.
I want you to know how much pain your passing has caused because I want you to know how much we loved you and how important you are and always will be to your family. We have the kind of pain that makes your whole body hurt. We cry the kind of tears that leaves your hands and back trembling, your throat swollen and your body dehydrated. We mourn the kind of mourning that makes us think of you with nearly every sound and sight, that wakes you up in the middle of the night and doesn't let you back to sleep and that takes away any desire to do anything but curl up and take sorrow. We have the kind of pain that makes you question everything you've ever known.
Since you've passed, I've done a lot of soul searching and had a lot of conversations with family, friends, Pastor Ken and others. It is impossible to understand how you were here, sitting in your chair giggling as you chewed on your toy when I left for the morning. And when I got home after receiving the news, you were gone, just your body laying peacefully in your cradle. No, Max, there is no understanding or logic or rationality that can be applied to what has happened. I cannot make sense of this and I don't think I ever will. I can only take comfort in knowing that I will get to see you again. And when I do get to see you, boy are we going to make up for some lost time. I cannot to wait to hold you and play with you and have you fall asleep in my arms. Cole and Noah will tell you that I think you have lots to learn from me. But buddy, I know you'll be the one teaching me. You've taught me so much already, before your passing. You taught me how to smile when things are tough and stress is high. You showed me courage like nobody else as you fought to thrive in tough circumstances. You helped me better understand how important love and family is and how much strength is in that. And you'll continue to teach me and shape me as the years go on. Max, there is no other boy like you and never will be. You were so special in so many ways and I can't ever begin to describe how great you were.
Max, there are going to be a million memories and thoughts of you as the years go by. And before I tuck Cole and Noah in for the night and I read to them Where the Wild Things Are, we're always going to remember our Max. Our Max who made mischief of one kind. Our Max who sailed off to a faraway land. And when you've had enough of that faraway land and hop back on that boat and sail home, your dinner will still be hot little buddy.
We can't wait to see you again Max.
