Max’s first birthday has come and gone. Most of the time, I
find it almost impossible to believe that I should have a one-year-old child to
take care of. There are moments of intense clarity, though, when I realize just
what this means. It is during these moments when I can feel just how great my
loss really is. I think of all of the “firsts” that we’ve missed out on. It’s
too painful to go through all of them, so I’ll spare you and myself. It’s just
hard to imagine all that we could have
experienced over the past year, and then to think of what we actually have experienced in the past
year. I also have a hard time picturing Max. Would his hair still be dark and
full? Ethan was also born with dark hair, which has since been replaced with a
soft mop of sandy blond hair. One thing I feel very sure of is that Max would
be big. Very big. He would probably look much older, and I like to imagine that
he would act much older too. He just always seemed so mature and so much older
than he was. I know people probably think that it’s torturous to think of these
things, but it isn’t. Not at all. It makes me feel like I’m staying caught up
with him in the only way I can. Ultimately, I don’t know what he would look
like or act like, but I know that my life would be different in many ways.
On Max’s birthday, we had friends and family over to create
a memorial garden for Max. My mom came up with the idea, and, I’ll be honest, I
wasn’t sure that it could become a reality. She suggested clearing out a
sloped, lightly wooded area in our backyard and planting perennials there.
Scott’s dad built a bench for Max to put back there, and so we started
planning. Here is what it looked like before:
It took two days of very hard work, but this is what we have now:
I am, admittedly, a bad photographer, so you'll either have to trust me or come for a visit to see how beautiful it really is. The back of our house is full of floor-to-ceiling windows, so this is what I get to see when I walk in the front door, wash dishes at the sink, or sit down at the kitchen table to eat dinner. Our friends and family brought enough plants to fill much more space than we had planned for Max's garden, so we have beautiful plants everywhere that will bloom each year around Max's birthday and remind us of what a blessing he was to have known. It was, and still is, surreal to see the results of everyone's love, support, and hard work. I've never enjoyed watering, but I head out pretty happily every afternoon to water Max's garden. It gives me time each day to reflect on the good things that came from Max and to remind myself that beauty can spring from ugliness, hope from tragedy. It is not lost on me either that the people who "saved" our backyard and made it peaceful and serene are the same people who "saved" us after Max's death. If not for their selflessness, love, and generosity, I don't know that we would be navigating this journey with as much hope as we are. Even people who couldn't be here physically found a way to be involved, from sending plants to supplying us with floral arrangements and baked goods. We even got a gift certificate for a couples massage from a (too) generous neighbor!
Emotionally, Max's birthday was difficult, but for the most part I was able to view it as a celebration of one of the best days of my life. A recorded phone call from Geoffrey, the Toys R Us giraffe, wishing Max a happy first birthday and "many more to follow" was an unwelcome intrusion that pushed me to tears for a while, but even that couldn't take away from the beauty of the day. I did want to tell Geoffrey what I thought of his ill-timed message, but I can't hold it against a fictional character, I guess. I will never be able to express how grateful I am to everyone who participated in Max's birthday. I felt so enveloped by love all day, and I needed that. Each plant is marked with a river rock bearing the donor's name so that we can remember every day just how surrounded by love we really are.
One other very special addition to the day was a piece of artwork that everyone took part in. An art teacher from work painted a beautiful tree with two cardinals sitting in it and Max's name draped across it. Everyone who came over added a "leaf" to the tree in the form of fingerprints. It is hanging beside one of the large windows that line the back of our house, and it is more perfect than I could have imagined. Here is the finished product:
Again, please excuse my photography skills...
So, was Max's birthday hard? Yes. But it was beautiful, filled with love, and worth every bead of sweat. I feel the same way about Max. Losing Max has been heartbreaking, anger-inducing, and infinitely painful, but I would go through it all over again just to experience life with him.
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