When we first met Maximuus C., we knew he was something special. His strength, spirit, and smile lit up every space he entered, and the love surrounding him was unmistakable.

After we shared the heartbreaking news of Max’s passing earlier this month, his father, Gabriel reached out to us with something deeply personal. During Max’s wake, Gabriel stood before family and friends and read a tribute to his son—a story that captured the full weight of Max’s journey, his fierce will to live, and the beautiful mark he left on this world.

Rather than a traditional eulogy, Gabriel chose to share Max’s story in the way it deserved to be told: with honesty, heart, and power. Today, with his permission, we are honored to share it with all of you.

This is Max’s story, as told by his dad. May it stay with you as it has stayed with us.

"Maximuus Alexander Cabrera

(translation “The Greatest Defender of Mankind”)

A name that will evoke the image of a King, an Emperor, or even an Olympian god.

A name that embodies strength, stoicism, and gravitas.

A name founded in regal lineage, customarily reserved for noble bloodlines, and the ruling class.

Prologue: Importance of Selecting the Proper Name

The task of selecting a name must not be taken lightly. The process can quickly become a burden of conscience when the name is to be appointed to a figure of immense power and majesty. That is why a procedure of this magnitude is historically reserved for scholars, so the most fitting Regal names are bestowed accordingly to monarchs and pontiffs. The name must encapsulate an ideal and project an (almost) celestial strength when announcing this exemplar of sovereignty.  The escalation of significance is equal to the level of importance for the one whom is to receive the name. An all but Herculean, and well-nigh impossible undertaking. These were the parameters before me, to which I had to meet (or exceed) when I embraced the métier of forging my first-born son’s name.

Chapter 1: The Process

Initially, like most new (and young) fathers, I had a jovial attitude towards the selection of my first-born’s name. There was a litany of options that I considered and shared with my wife. Some were met with laughs, others with intrigue, and the majority were out-right refused. I viewed this as an opportunity to reflect on the power of a name, and how a child can draw strength from it in time of strife. I reflected on my own childhood and how important the story of Gabriel (the angel) was to me. I would always draw power from it during my most turbulent moments, when I was at my most vulnerable. These stories would inevitably forge an indomitable armor around my heart and soul. This same armor has served me well and has been tested to its limits throughout my life. With these revised goals as my markers, I would then focus my efforts to deliver an apropos solution. A name that would withstand the slings and arrows that only a cruel world would be evil enough to dispense. A nom de guerre a Gladiator would be proud to bear whilst stepping into the arena, a name fit for a warrior. 

Lastly, my son should exhibit compassion, to off-set the vacuum found in our existence. My job was not over, I had to assign a forename that symbolized the dedication to this trait. To be kind and to love, even when it is easiest to be vile.

Once I arrived at the conclusion, there was a sense of relief that showered over my heart, followed by a feeling of achievement. The introductory bequest that my child would receive (from me) would be a bespoke name. The irony would later be revealed, after he was born, that his power would transcend words and assigned monikers. The likes of which are building blocks for a vast chronicle full of struggle, pain, loss, grief, happiness, love, and laughter.

Although in retrospect, I would be remised if I did not mention that Max’s story was not solely about his battles. His odyssey maintained a congruent parallel to the commissioning of various “Regal-like” sobriquets. However, this time around it would not be myself leading the activity. It would be the legion of his loving (and loyal) followers.

Chapter 2: Max, the Boy

Shortly after Max was brought into our lives, we were struck with the realization that his path would forever be altered. It was on January 5, 2015, a date which will stay seared into the darkest parts of our memories. On that day we were informed that, “Max will never have a happy and normal life”, a sentence that infuriated me. It was not simply because of the grief that was felt towards my son’s ability altering diagnosis but focused on the audacity of its affirmed finality. Thus far, I had spent a third of my existence being written off in the same cavalier manner. I made it my principle goal to break this generational curse, and force the hands of fate myself (if required).

This young child’s ailment may have denied him access to a traditional trajectory (in the eyes of critics), but this just allowed us to toss away conventional norms. We would commit our efforts to devising a strategy which would “fight back” against the unjust characterization of him as merely a patient (the act of stripping him of his right to be a young boy). The task of forging an “indestructible asymmetrical childhood” became a directive as paramount to ensuring his continued well-being. An act of defiance that produced some of the most memorable chapters in his life. If there was ever a possibility (with the promise of happiness for him) we would create a way of making it possible and manifest it into his world. From simple trips to the park where he would laugh himself drunk, watching the sun-kissed branches sway in the gentle wind, to fully involved adventures at theme parks, where he was in direct presence of happy children. This “new way forward” was never going to be straight-forward, uncomplicated, or painless, but it was necessary – vital to the battle of erasing poorly framed vision of him as a “patient”, “disabled”, “less than”, or “terminal”. Thankfully, it was a campaign Max aided in as well. We were triumphant in gaining background we had originally lost to “close-minded” invaders. It was the sweetest of victories, which led to him receiving his first title, Max the boy.

Chapter 3: Max, the Warrior

As time passed, and Max’s condition worsened, so did the level of support from the majority of those who took an oath to never faulter in their duties – the children’s healthcare (and support) apparatus. It was the most painful and dishonorable betrayal to witness. A generous amount of professionally trained healthcare practitioners that refused to uphold their sworn duty to protect. A rampant dereliction of duty that would normally lead to a military tribunal, or a dissolution of ranks and titles (or even face a firing squad). The “modus operendi” became negligence (and indifference), for this highly regarded class. Our entire trust and hopes were built upon the altars of these “God-Like” medicine men to help a sick child. An intolerant and contemptuous attitude that lead to ill-advised prescriptions (which caused him to go blind at one point), poorly handled follow-ups (his genetic test results collecting dust on that doctor’s desk for almost 4 months), and near abandonment when he needed them most.

My wife and I were heartbroken a second time, when we observed a terrifying fact – we were alone in this fight. We didn’t know how, but we would have to become subject matter experts in Max’s condition, so that we could expertly map out the standard of care he deserved. In these dark moments, I personally witnessed two fighters emerge from the rubble:

1. One was a woman that was brought to the edge of her sanity, but out-right refused to capitulate to the ineptitude of the “learned practitioners” that were supposed to care for her boy. Instead, she used the fire in her heart to engineer a chrysalis that would usher in her new form. What would emerge from this pupa state is best described as a “force of nature”, you were unable to name it, but you knew when you felt its presence… whether you were on the receiving end of her warmth, or on the righteous end of her wrath, it was clear what (and whom) her motivation as. A phoenix-like resurrection that delivered a Valkyrie warrior to the boy who needed her most. A mother, to EVERY measure of the word!!!

2. The second was a little boy. One that was poked, prodded, injured, abandoned, abused, failed, disregarded, and yet refused to stop smiling. An audacious boy, that faced the entire weight of his illness and would still crawl back to a victory, with the odds always stacked against him. A champion of his own fate that routinely laughed in the face of the (vastly empty) void. It has been said God weeps for his children when they are going through immense pain and suffering. I would also wager to say in the same breath that he was amazed by this child and his unflinching resiliency. It was a bittersweet moment to witness, but it was ordained by a higher power that Max’s second title would be:

Max, the Warrior…

Chapter 4: Max, the Brother

The days rolled into months, and the months turned into years. The battles that Max endured increased in frequency, duration, and intensity. Each one would leave a small reminder of its existence on his little body (and soul), via a scar, or diminishment. From not having the ability to sit up, organs were failing as well, and even loss of various motor functions. He would put up an insurmountable counter-offensive and stave off the darkness, every time. We were also pushing as hard as we could, even neglecting our own relationship in the process. Max was the ONLY priority, and anything else could wait. This plan worked, repeatedly, but at a price. A hole was present, it would grow by the week, we all just chose to ignore it. My wife and I were at our wits end, there were days where we possibly got sick of it all, but maintained the course (without fail). 

 Just when we thought we'd come apart from the weight of it all, something happened. Somehow, a bit of magic was able to penetrate the dark clouds that we'd inadvertently created. There was a darkness that we manifested, all while focusing on the mission to save Max. This was the causation (and creation) of the hole that had been looming over us. Nevertheless, magic surrounded us, unbeknownst to us. You see, a small angel had been over-hearing God weep. He was curious and then one day asked God why he wept. God said; "My dear angel, I see a child in pain that I cannot directly help", "He is just outside of my reach, but he, and his parents need help now more than ever before". The little angel looked on, and for months stayed over Max (and his family). On one sunny day, he went to God and asked if he could visit this boy named "Maximuus". God informed him that he would love for him to, but as an angel he cannot leave the confines of heaven. He'd be able to if he so chose, but there would be a price, he would have to give up his wings. 

This little cherub summoned all of the gumption available in his heart and stood in front of God, to affirm his declaration. He said, "God, I am aware that I will have to relinquish my wings, if I choose to leave Heaven", "However, there is a family down there that needs me more", "In the end, I may lose my wings, but I will gain a brother...". After hearing this, God smiled at the cherub and declared back, "Then let it be so, my loving angel, but make sure to never let them sink into the darkness again!". After that final send off, he made his journey to us, resulting in a brightness showering over my wife. Life was now present where sorrow once stood, joy took residence in her heart once again. Once my wife and I found out that we would be bringing another life into this world we were immediately stricken with fear. We thought, "What if another poor soul is destined to walk Max's path?", "What if?...". A decision was made to embrace the gift that we were granted, it was not going to be easy (not one bit), but it was necessary. I followed the same procedure that I once had for Max, and I bestowed my second born with a name worthy of the life he was about to inherit. 

On September 23rd, 2016 Zachary Aurelius Cabrera graced us with his existence. Almost immediately, Max was bathed in the glory of God's gift and took on a newfound happiness. 

One that he had never felt before, no matter how hard we tried. He had a little brother to share the small moments of glee that he was able to afford, throughout his journey.

Then one day, when Max was 4 (and Zach was 2) they were both sitting in their little chairs, firmly planted in front of the living room T.V.. I had played Moana for them both (it was their favorite) and Max started having uncontrolled seizures. Before I could jump out of my chair (and clear the distance to Max) a 2 year old boy stood up from his chair (pacifier still in mouth) to console his brother. He gently rubbed his hand across his brother's face and said "Ya-ya", which in spanish means to slow down, he had witnessed us do this for his brother countless times before. This time, he felt the "call to service" (within him) and rendered loving care, as only he knew how. A legacy was born on that day, one that continued to the very end! I stood in amazement as Zach granted Max his third title; "Max, the brother"...

Chapter 5: Max, the Light

We were finally a complete family, one that could share the highs & lows together. To be honest, we were extremely fortunate to have more highs than lows, or at least it seemed that way from our vantage point. It could just be that we kept each other happy, and that is what mattered most. The truth is that even the strongest of partnerships cannot stay cohesive without a fixative that keeps it together, firmly. In the midst of all of the new found glee, it had not dawned on us that there was always one part of the team working behind the scenes. A silent warrior that was always present, but never interrupted, in fear that these carefully constructed moments (of happiness) would cease to be. 

It is not a fair position to be in, but she took up the mantle without hesitation. She also had a vested interest in seeing the continuation of these moments, because the young mother was her own daughter. Every bit of pain that we were feeling was magnified in her heart, simply because she knew there was a limit on what she could physically do to make it all go away for us. Having served an entire career as a nurse, there was also too much she had witnessed, but knew that she had to shield us from it. It was her labor of love for us, to never leave us without support, to never be without anything. 

Day after day, this stoic Centurion stood watch over her boys and daughter. It did bear a heavy burden though, one that was almost soul crushing. This pain would subside at times, whenever her little Max would use the heaviest hitting weapon he kept on him. Whenever his grandmother was at her lowest points, he would unleash his smile & laughter, with the power of a strong nuclear force. It would be felt throughout an entire house, with a commanding tone that would summon everyone within it to his bedside. It was his way of heralding the trumpets of light, to push away the dark. He would continue to master this gift and use it without fear of ever running low on it. It was an ethereal light, extremely delicate, and almost too perfect for this world. Max was the only one that could command it with impunity.

This ethereal glow remains present in his room, on his toys, and in our minds. Most importantly, the prolonged exposure to it is what still allows a grieving grandmother to continue. The fuel that she needs to wash away the dark moments from her memories, and keep the bright ones that he created for her, just for her. As a silent witness myself, I watched from afar, and understood what the dynamic nature of this bond was. They had their own language, a separate world they would crawl into, where only they were the (rightful) residents. It made me extremely happy to know this, and even prouder of my son, to see his never-ending empathy at work. Although it was never said, I know that his grandmother granted him his next title, one that only she can confirm; "Max, the light"...

Chapter 6: Max, the Mighty!

As this story winds down, I work diligently to summarize this young boy's short (yet full) life as best as I can. I hope that I did not miss any vital components that would fail to paint the full image of this Heavenly, and Regal figure. Although he was not born into a royal bloodline, his nobility now made it one. Moments like these were only meant for story books, it would seem. However, being (firmly) planted in reality I know that story books are just for dreamers. True Monarchs lived tumultuous lives, whilst providing for their people, constantly fighting off intruders, and ensuring that the legacy of that sovereign kingdom would live on. As Max's father I have never considered myself a "central character" to his legacy, but instead a witness to the rise of a young King. A role I more than welcomed, knowing that he had loyal knights that served him better than I ever could. 

To that note, I would say that as Royal Archivist to his R.H. Maximuus Alexander Cabrera's royal archives, he has met (and exceeded) all the objectives listed above. Furthermore, I would gesture that had any kingdom ever had a benevolent ruler like Max, we would be a better world today. That is why king alone doesn't satisfy my description of this child, it seems almost too limiting of his character. I would then shift to use this as a petition to God, himself, to raise Maximuus into sainthood. A child with no sin, and not one dark spot on his soul. A person could only wish to live such a pure existence, that is why this is the only conclusion that makes sense to me. Hopefully, this story acts as a way to broker that conversation between Max and God, when they meet again soon. For the time being, he is still a noble and regal figure, one that touched us all during his reign. That is why I would like to direct the initiative to give my son his final title. His final epithet shall encompass all the actions he exhibited during his wonderful reign over our hearts. As the man who gave his first name, it is my great honor to gift him his final one; "Max, the Mighty!" 

Long may he reign in our hearts, longer may his legend be shared to all!"