Sweet Peace

My Max died.

I can barely write the words it’s so darn painful.

This is the man who didn’t blink when Glory dragged me to their basement apartment when I was 10 and cold and hungry and had nowhere to sleep. This is the man who took one look at a skinny smart-mouthed girl and pronounced that I was now a part of his family. This is the man who called me his girl child and was more than a father to me – a friend and mentor. This is the man who loved me when I had no idea that there was such a thing as love.

In his last days he slept a lot. We made up a bed for him on the back deck so he could see the ocean, listen to the tide and feel the ocean breezes. Tucked him in comforters and quilts so he wouldn’t take a chill. We slept out there with him – Glory, Vi, me, Cowboy, Bull, David and the cats. Sweetie the Neo slept with his head on Max’s bed, the cats near his chest. We told him how much we loved him; he knew that already and when he could no longer speak, we told him we knew how much he loved us. I whispered it was okay if he wanted to go; we would understand. We made sure he was pain free and finally, in the middle of the afternoon a couple of weeks ago, he slipped into a coma and left us.

I was holding his hand when he took his last breath.

Vi keeps everything inside; Glory fell apart. I needed to be strong for all of us and I was until the funeral home folks came for him. It’s so darn hard to say goodbye.

Max was cremated at his request. We flew to New Orleans to hold a memorial for him. Folks came in from Chicago and Gulfport. It was an old-fashioned New Orleans wake with old jazz musicians he knew playing “Saints” as we walked through the French Quarter to the church. Afterwards we hosted a reception at Antoine’s swapping Max stories – his youth, his “stable of working girls” in New Orleans and Chicago, his generous heart – making Thanksgiving, Christmas and other special days a free banquet for the street folks.

Although Max grew up in Kingston, Jamaica, he was actually born in Gulfport, Mississippi and that’s where his ashes were scattered. Glory and Vi will probably return to their home in Gulfport but for the time being, they’ll stay with us in Western Washington. Cowboy will help settle their legal issues; Max made sure his ladies would live comfortably after he was gone.

I’m not sure how we’ll all get on without him. He was such a strong presence in our lives.

Glory and Vi and I danced under the last full moon in his honor. Cowboy stayed inside; left us to do what we had to do to ease our hearts. Later, I slept in my lover’s arms grateful for his strength and support. Max was his friend as well.

Max always said “Life be short; you best be ‘preciating it for all it be worth.”

Sweet peace, Max.

~Sar~