
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.
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.