Grief

This is a picture of my friend Max and me. It was taken in January of 2007 when I came back to Phoenix for a brief visit. My eyes look a little cracked out because I had just taken one of his crazy energy pills and my heart was about to flip flop out of my chest like a fish from one of his many tanks. Anyway, moving on.........

I just don't even know where to begin. Most of my happy memories in Phoenix include Max....Max with his out of control, curly hair. Max with his blue hair. Max with his huge smile and strange dances that he would do while drunk. Shortly before I moved away we (and by "we" I mean the group of friends that I would dorkily come to refer to as the Urban Family) threw a birthday part for him at the house that he and Andrew shared, complete with some really potent tequila and a pinata that I had helped to purchase from the Mexican grocery store where no one spoke English. We spent summer weekends at his house in Springerville drinking too much, counting stars that we couldn't see in Phoenix, and going for long runs (er, rather, I went for long runs while everyone made fun of me for subjecting myself to the thin gasps of mountain air). We had hungover brunches and discussions about Buddhism and he told me that I would be a great mother someday. There are just too many memories right now....and right now they're all flashing in front of my face so quickly, and I'm scared of letting any of them dissolve into the abyss of the things that we forget.

Max was killed in a car accident last night. Forgive me if I ramble or sound detached or inarticulate. It hasn't sunk in yet.

The last time I saw him--the evening that the picture was taken--we had the kind of heart-to-heart that all friends SHOULD have. It was outside of a classic Phoenix strip mall bar, and I can't even remember how it was that we found ourselves out there, but suddenly there we were and there were tears in his eyes. He was struggling to find his way a little, and he talked and I listened and told him that I thought he was wonderful. And he apologized to me for the times when he would get impatient with my drunken ridiculousness (which, well, was justified....did I mention that I no longer drink heavily??). We hugged and hugged and hugged and looked at cute boys and decided that it was high time we forged our own special friendship outside of the group. It was a perfect moment and I am so grateful that we had it. And he rolled his eyes when I lectured him for the hundredth time about taking care of himself and WEARING HIS EFFING SEATBELT. Max was not wearing his seatbelt when he died.

I could go on and on saying all of the things about how wonderful Max was, because he was. He was sweet and wonderful and funny and generous and had a billion animals that he took care of and loved and I was lucky to be his friend. But if I were to do that I think that it would somehow be a cliched disservice to him. I also am reminded of Max's reaction whenever I complimented him to excess. He would get a shy smile and say "shut up, Brooke" in that cheeky little way of his.

So this is not the time or place for a saccharine eulogy. Because the fact of the matter is that I don't even know where to start. And all I can do right now is feel pissed off and powerless. I'm pissed off that Max wasn't more careful and I'm pissed off that I can't go to Arizona for the funeral and grieve with my friends and my heart just HURTS for his family who loved him so much. And it sounds soooooo fucking stupid to say this, but he had just joined Facebook and we had exchanged some messages and all I can do is sit here and stare at them. And part of what makes this loss so unbearable is the fact that we WERE such a family of friends. We WERE such a unique group and we had so many adventures and misadventures and I will never forget any of it.

There are no words for this right now. None. All I can do is pad my understanding of all of this with stupid cliches. Right now, all I can say is that there is a gaping abyss in the world. All I can say is that this just fucking sucks.


PART of the Urban Family in 2005(?). I'm in the middle, and Max is, unfortunately, covering his face. I miss nights like this so much.