Good bye Max

We found our beloved cat Max dead in the garden this morning. He was 15-16 years old and had kidney disease, arthritis, cataracts and had been losing weight. Yesterday he looked extremely weak and could barely drink.
Even so his death is an utter shock and I feel completely bereft.
When we came to England in 1998 with our then 7 and 8 years olds we decided to adopt cats within 2 weeks of arriving to ease the transition to a new place and unexpectedly strangely different culture. Max and Izzy came from a elderly woman who had to move into sheltered accomodation and could not take her cats with her. We got them the day before the were to be put down.
Izzy (still healthy) is completely neurotic-she moved into Aaron's room when we had a dog and till this day she barely leaves.
Max, massive big ginger Max on the other hand has always been remarkaby friendly. No matter the teenage dramas, conflicts going on in the house he has always loved us all.
He seemed to love people who found him frightening (he was big) and took great pains to stay close to them to be a comfort. He was remarkably gentle and would gently tap out shoulder with his paw when he wanted to be stroked. He spent hours with both children cuddled up on couches and on the ends of beds. I am sure he did more to get both of them through adolescence than any of the therapists/counsellors etc we tried.
Max learnt to sit next to me with his head on my lap when I was knitting to not get in the way when I put the needles down he would come into my lap.
Thank you Max thank you for everything you gave to us.
Thank you