Memories of Max - A Father's Story

Chapter 7 - Max

Home

Max also had a lot of difficulty in getting to sleep. He would cry out that he was afraid to sleep or that he'd had a nightmare. Often I would go to him and stroke his forehead to try to relax him. I told him how my father had done the same and how much it had helped me sleep. It frequently worked.

When Max was about five years old we went to see the film Caspar. It is a story of a girl and her father who move to a haunted house. There were four ‘bad’ ghosts and the ghost of a child called Caspar. Max loved the film. During the film the father and daughter often made promises to each other. If they were special promises they would link little fingers in a special ritualistic shake to seal the promise. Max adopted this convention with me and this continued until his death. If either of us requested a ‘Caspar’ promise then we would link our little fingers. This was a promise which neither of us could break. It was a sign of our trust in each other and was absolute. In the battles over medication which were to follow during Max’s second illness these became very important. If he thought he could not keep to the terms he or I was setting then he would refuse to do a ‘Caspar’ promise. If he did make one then it was never broken. These promises were sacrosanct.

There was a similar ritual to the ‘Caspar’ promises during Max’s second cancer. During this period the physical side of our relationship became very important. You can tell your son how much you love him but he also desperately needed to be cuddled

Before Max’s tumour we often used to cuddle up on the sofa in the evening and watch television together. When the cancer took hold he could not cuddle either because he was sensitive because of the pain or he was unnaturally hot from the illness. He found that he became unbearably hot if he was in my arms and used to joke about his ‘Hot Daddy’. We found a compromise as so often we did. He would lie next to me and curl one hand around my thumb and just gently hold on. That was our new ‘cuddle’.

For many months after Max’s death, I spent my evenings on the sofa and would curl one hand around the thumb of my other hand. It was my way of remembering him and trying to comfort myself.

More than anything already said about Max, I remember him for his courage, gentleness and humour. I remember him for the love, laughter and close friendship which he gave me and allowed me to give him in return.

I wanted to write a chapter about Max, and yet feel desperately inadequate in doing so. There is so much more that can be and should be said but I do not know how to express it.

Click here if you would like details of how to buy a copy of the book