Max was many things, but he was not much of a cuddler. He loved people, but he was happy to have some distance between himself and anyone but a few. He would put his head on my lap, push himself between me and other people, but just lay on the floor beside me? No, that wasn’t really his style. He preferred the cool space by the front door to my lap.
Maverick wants to be on me all the time. When he’s playing, when he’s sleeping. He gets his toy – of which he has many – and gets part of his body on my lap or as close to my leg as possible. When he sleeps during the day, he wants up on the sofa, curled up between me and a pillow, or beside me on the floor, but some part of him has to be touching some part of me.
I love seeing the similarities between them. I love seeing the differences. I love that there ARE differences. I couldn’t handle a Max but Not Max. This funny, adorable little guy reminds me of Max in so many good ways. And I cry while I laugh at him, wishing Max were still here, wishing Max could truly be a big brother to this Tiny Terror. He’s so full of himself, so confident, so curious and happy and loving. I know he’d love Max. I know he’d look up to him and learn from him – I miss him so.
I told the Bear that I want to get a sign made and put on the path to Max’s field. That field will always be his – as will so many things here. And my heart will always be his. I’m grateful that there’s room in this oh so broken heart to love another. Grateful to Max for showing me that I can love more than one, and to Maverick for giving me Chapter 2.