His name is Max. He is a very rambunctious 5 year old boy.  As we start our little adventure, he decides he is going to take me to the park. First place he runs, is to the monkey bars. He climbs the ladder and looks around to make sure we were watching.  It’s a cool, crisp winter morning. His soft brown hair blows in the wind.  It is too early for any new growth on the trees, but at least the snow has all melted.

“Watch me,” Max yells.  He grabs on to the first bar, and off he goes.  About half way through, Max falls off.  He hits the ground, gets back up and starts again.  This time he swings his little body all the way across. So proud of himself, he runs over to his mother Nicole, and boasts, “I did it. Did you see me?”

“Great job Max, I’m so proud of you,” she says as she hugs him.

“What kind of prize do I get for that Mom?” He asks excitedly

As I am trying to figure out what he meant by his question, Nicole asks him, “what do you want?”

“I want Ice Cream!” Max demands.

Somewhat confused as to why Max is asking for a prize, Nicole tells him, “when we get home you can have an Ice Cream.” She looks over at me and explains, “I got into a bad habit of giving him a prize every time he does something new and succeeds.  Now he expects it!”

My eyes start wondering around. All the kids playing were just happy to be outside.  It was chilly, but overly cold. After a long winter being cooped up, there were kids everywhere.  There was a group of kids playing tag, and it seemed as if the girls were all running from the boys.  Other kids were on the swings being pushed by the parents or friends, and the older kids seemed to be congregating on the top of the rope towers. One little girl was trying to be brave by standing on the spinning wheel. Her pigtails were whipping around her face from the wind.  She almost fell, but caught herself quickly. Yelling to her father, “Daddy did you see me?” He looks up from his phone and gives her a wave.  She looked so sad as she got off the wheel, putting her head down and slowly walking on to her next adventure.

Back at the house, after Max has his freeze pop, I ask him to show me his room.  We walk up the stairs, and down the loud wooden hallway.  He stops in front of his room and looks at me to say, “Sorry for the mess.”  I almost hit the floor. What would make a 5 year old boy say something like that, or even care what his room looked like. His room was simply done, with blue and white walls.  There was built in bookcases, filled with toys and books scattered all around.  His bed was unmade and he had some dirty clothes on the floor, probably his pajamas from the night before. Definitely not, what I would call a mess.  His walls were mostly bare, but across from his bed, where he can wake up and see it every morning, was a large picture of a man. That man was his father, Kevin

“That is my Dad,” Max started. “He died when I was little. He got into a bad car accident and didn’t come home again. Mommy still cries.” So sad to hear those words come out of that sweet boys mouth. I was ready to cry myself. I knew his father, and knew him well. Kevin used to be my boss at the restaurant we worked at.

“Max, I remember your Daddy. He was a great man!” I told him.

With his big brown eyes staring up at me and half a smile on his face, he says to me, “I don’t really remember him, but I have lots of pictures!” He pulls out a book from the case, and I notice it is a picture album.  “It’s all the pictures of my Dad. If I am in them it was when I was a baby.”

Saddened by the reality of it all, I said to Max, “Those are great memories, and as you get older you will want to look at all the great pictures you have in there.  It must be hard not being able to remember him.”

He quickly jumps off the bed and yells to his mother, “Mom, can I ride my new bike?” He must have wanted the subject changed as much as I did.

“Sure,” Nicole agreed.

We walk back out into the cool air. Nicole opens the garage door. Its every boys dream garage filled with dirt bikes and quads. He has two older brothers (from a different father), and he wants to be just like them. He pulls out a bright, shiny new red dirt bike. Knowing that the older boys were very much into motorized bikes, I should not have been surprised. Max roles the dirt bike onto the driveway and fires it up.  It is not a very big bike, but still big and powerful enough that I was nervous.  He goes back into the garage, and comes out with his helmet. It is black with a bright red Mohawk to match the bike. Max throws the helmet on his head, buckles it up, and off he goes. He weaves in and out of the leafless trees, up and down the long driveway, and all over the yard. This boy is a madman.

Suddenly the bike stops. Max takes off his helmet and throws it to the ground. Hard to believe this is the same boy, who less than 5 seconds ago was having the time of his life.

“What’s going on Max?” Nicole asks.

“Stupid bike,” Max yells.

“What’s the matter?” Nicole asks again.

“It’s dead, this bike sucks,” he says as he stomps away

“Is it out of gas?” Mom asks.

“Yes,” max yelled with a big puss on his face.

“When your brothers’ get home from school, they will fill it up for you and you can ride for a little while longer.”  She was trying to make him feel a little better, but it was not working.

He was mad! “I want to ride NOW,” he yelled

“You have to wait for Cayden to come home from school,” she tried to explain to him.  He stormed into the garage and started throwing things around while looking himself for the container of gas. “Max, you have to wait!”

“I DON’T WANT TO WAIT!” He started crying. He was so angry that he was not getting his way. Kicking and screaming, nothing was safe in that garage. He was having a temper tantrum, and what a temper he has! Nicole gets up, walks into the garage and tries to console an unconsolable boy. The patience she has, is unbelievable. Hugging him and rubbing his back, she whispers something in his ear that seemed to help. I didn’t ask what she said to him, but whatever she did worked. Next thing I know they are both crying. It has been almost 2 years since Kevin’s death, but still very new, and real to them. Still impacting everything they do and everything they say, the whole family feels it every day.  But Max, he has it the worst. He sees his brothers going to see their father or their father coming to pick them up.  Kyle is a great dad to those boys, and he is very good to Max, but he is not Dad.

Nicole and Max compose themselves, and come out of the garage.  Max has his basketball in hand and starts dribbling. Running to the hoop, dribbling the ball like a pro he takes a shot.  Swish. You can tell he has older brothers that teach and help him with everything he does.  He retrieves that ball and takes another shot, swish. He yells over to us to come play with him. We get up and he passes the ball to his mother.  She shoots and misses.  “You suck mom,” he giggles.

“Max, watch your mouth,” she says sternly.

He snatches the ball up again, aims and take another shot.  Another one right in with little effort. This kid is amazing. “Ha Ha Ha,” he giggles looking at us.

“Creep,” Nicole yells over to him. Turning her direction my way, she snears, “He is so fresh. Just like his father!”  Remembering Kevin from work, and seeing and hearing Max, I strongly agree. He is his father all the way. Sweet as pie, but with a big-time anger streak!