Articles by Max

My Father, My Mate – Big Max

My Dad’s story was finished.  He sucked in one last unconscious breath and died in my arms. Like a massive set of library doors slamming shut – the noise of eternal silence was deafening.  Those doors would never open again, kept locked by invisible chains, the keys to the padlock thrown away.

He stared straight ahead, unseeing, supported by a stack of pillows at his back.  The breathing ceased, he was gone.

I had returned only a matter of minutes earlier from punching coins into the side of the “expired” parking meter. My wife Kerry was later to tell me how agitated and restless he became despite being unconscious … as if he understood peace was near and he sensed my absence.

Outside a grey Melbourne day was in transition, coming to a close. The month was June; there was dampness in the air.

I held his pale hands in mine; arms limp across his chest – a sad dawning of a dreadful truth.  Never again would I be able to tap his wisdom, be excited by his enthusiasm and mischief, smile at his words and laugh loud at his stories. Or just hang out, as mates do.

I kept repeating “no, no no, not now, not yet.”   Too young, at 72.

The minute hand on his gold watch was edging towards the 12, not yet 6pm.

Light was fading quickly. The doctor confirmed his passing.

We were so alone, my Dad, my wife and I, in a vast emptiness.

Tomorrow would surely come, but without my father, my mate, Big Max.

After 50 years of our partnership, his legacy lives on in the energy and spirit of his stories.

I thank him for my genes.

We should not take our family for granted – they are very special.

Happy Fathers Day to all Dads out there …

Those with us and those in our thoughts.