Twelve

It’s the music he loves most. He favors his brothers’ songs, but he’s memorized them all, two teams’ worth of walk-up songs. His hands go up and his head nods as he runs up and down the fence line, singing the songs, and cheering on each player by name. He is the most enthusiastic person at every youth baseball game and he’s his brothers’ greatest fan.

Everyone knows Max. It’s his curls and big smile, his signature hello and hi, guy, delivered with a one-of-a-kind inflection. He is cheerful and friendly, a magnetic force that draws you in, leaves you happier, lighter. Some call him “the mayor.” It certainly fits.

Max loves church and school. Middle school is on the horizon. When he began preschool at age 4, I’d wake him by stroking his back. His eyes would open, and he’d immediately start talking about his day, excitedly listing the names of all his classmates. This is still our morning routine and friends are still his favorite. He collects them everywhere he goes.

Max has his own room with a big moon nightlight he’s had for years. He’s always loved his quiet space for bedtime, but there’s a third bed in his brothers’ shared room that’s for him whenever he wants to join them. Dan and I love when all three sleep in the same room. We listen outside the door as they laugh and carry on. I sneak in when they’ve fallen asleep. I kiss their faces, tousle their hair, and, of course, take pictures of them, my sweet trio.

Max is happiest when he’s outdoors. He’s always been that way. I have a jogging stroller customized for him, and we run all over the neighborhood and through parks. His brothers ride their bikes alongside us. He waves at everyone and laughs uncontrollably when we race the boys. We’ll do anything to make Max laugh.

When Dan walks through the door, Max alerts the entire house, just as he’s done since he was a toddler. Daddy home! Daddy home! Daddy here! Dan is greeted as if he’s walked into a surprise party – a cacophony of celebratory hoots and hollers as all our sons hang on his limbs, and clamor to be the first to share the details of their day.

Homemade pizza is the most requested dinner by all the boys. Max still likes to help roll the dough and sprinkle on the cheese and pepperoni. He had a g-tube for years, but he eats by mouth now. We never rushed him, but we always knew he’d meet this goal. I used to dream of the day when he’d have a favorite food, something he’d crave and ask for over and over. I had a feeling that milkshakes would be at the top of his list, and I was right. I make them all the time and delight in watching them be devoured.

Though most kids don’t enjoy errands, Max loves them. All around town, from Kroger to “TarTar,” he wants to be out and about. When he was tiny, I called him my sidekick. Now I’m his. Going to a store without him would never feel right, or as fun. When he was 6, I needed to make a quick trip to a sporting goods store. As quickly as I cranked the car in the driveway, I jumped out of it and ran back into the house where Dan was watching the three boys. I grabbed Max and said I’d be back in a bit. I couldn’t bear to run the errand without him. Everything was better with him in tow. Max was on my hip as we entered the store. I kept looking at him, melting over his sweet face, unable to wipe the smile off mine, feeling overjoyed as I thought I get to take this guy everywhere with me for the rest of my life!

He turns 12 today. He wants sprinkles on his cake and lots of music. When he was 5, we threw him a “band party.” We’re doing that again this year because no party could be more perfect for Max. The band will play his favorite songs, Mumford & Sons mostly, and the venue will be filled with friends and family. Flanked by his brothers, Max will blow out his candles. Dan and I will watch them with watery eyes, feeling like the luckiest parents in the world.

Next Saturday morning we’ll be at the Miracle League field for Max’s game. Yes, he plays baseball, too, just like we always hoped, and Dan coaches him, just as he does the other boys. Mumford & Sons blares every time Max walks up to the plate. His brothers stand at the fence and cheer him on let’s go, Maxie, you know what to do. When he swings and hits the ball, there’s a ruckus in the stands, a blur of someone jumping, screaming, losing her ever-loving mind. It’s me, his mother, Max’s greatest fan.

I always think about what life would look like if Max were still here. His brothers ask how tall he’d be, what shows he’d like, if he would prefer this or that. I spend a lot of time considering the answers. I know Max like the back of my hand, my entire being intrinsically devoted to him and his brothers. I know his life here would still have challenges, but, as it always was with Max, those challenges would be eclipsed by joy. Our world would be brighter, our hearts would be whole. My imagination takes me to beautiful places with Max, from here to heaven, as often as I can endure it. I carry him in my heart and write stories about him in my mind and on paper. I picture him everywhere we go, in every new phase of life, at every birthday we celebrate without him. Grief is indistinguishable from our love, the two both so consuming and ever present, but we know sadness isn’t the way to honor our boy. He was the most effervescent, joyful soul. He deserves smiles, and laughter, and so much celebration. So, we will light candles, and send balloons up. We will make a wish and pray we find him in our dreams. We will continue to share his legacy as best as we can, through his foundation, by loving one another, and by loving others. Wherever we go, he’ll go with us.

Max forever. Team Janton always.