I've spent 5 nights trying to write this blog post. Or more accurately, trying to begin the post.

I now feel like a fool for every time I've claimed "omg, I'm going to kill myself..or I'd rather kill myself than do this yada yada"; I've felt like a fool ever since I saw his mother collapse in sobs in front of the life-size Jesus plastered to the front of that Catholic church, in front of all the family to see, in front of her son's casket.

I never knew the kid well. But I didn't have to. A couple of his and byes in the hallway were sufficient to establish his impression of being just absolutely wonderful. And I didn't get a chance to soak it all in; lest that moment in the graveyard as the doves were being released.

"Are you ready to release your son?"

"No, and I don't think I ever will be."

RIP Max.

We're all going to miss you.