Just about every day, sometimes multiple times a day, I see a red Chevy Cavalier like the one Max drove. In the months after he died, it used to really upset me. I mean, I can still see in my mind's eye his little car parked in the driveway, and I can still see the smashed wreck of his vehicle and hear the buzz of the metal saw the rescue workers used to free him from his metal prison...
But now I look forward to passing one of these cars on the road. Every time I do, my heart says, "HI Max!" For a split second in time, we're connected again. I relish it.
There will come a time when this won't be as common an occurrence, I know. And I dread that inevitability. But until then, every red Cavalier circa 1999 or thereabouts that I encounter brings me comfort.
I miss my son in ways I am incapable of expressing.