Kissing Max is the first thing I did for 13 years. Then we followed a ritual until I left for work. That ritual went chaotic since his body slowly got consumed by cancer. But kissing him was there until the last day.
Now, I kiss his ashes which is devoid of everything he was. The mornings are empty without him. It is scary to count how many mornings would I have to face for the rest of my life.
There is a famous quote on suicide:
The person who completes suicide dies once. Those left behind die a thousand deaths, trying to relive those terrible moments and understand … Why?
The worst thing in life missing someone who you love and knowing you will never see them again. Max didn't commit suicide but I feel the pain that some wise humans had written about thousands of years ago.
Albert Camus said it so eloquently:
But in the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself.
Max had one of the most powerful eyes. I have seen his body weaken and never fully recovered but his eyes showed that power of life until the am of this last day. Maybe, my courage might come from that remembrance of his beautiful eyes.
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