2 AM: Thoughts of you
It’s 2 a.m., and I can’t sleep. You’re on my mind, Samson. What are you doing? Are you watching over me, reminiscing about our memories, or just resting in peace? I find myself reaching out to hear your voice again, to feel your presence, to catch a glimpse of your spirit. It’s been a year, and I still haven’t slept through the night.
Sometimes I wake up in a panic, my mind racing: Where is Samson? Where did he go? I search for you in the quiet darkness, trying to rationalize a way to feel close to you. My heart aches in ways words cannot fully capture. I feel like a broken tool, unable to fulfill its purpose. What good is a leaking pot? What good am I, with such a large piece of me missing?
Living with this emptiness is torture. There’s no pain like hearing your child take their last breath, feeling their heartbeat one last time, and knowing they are gone forever—all while they’re cradled in your arms. How can you not be changed by that? How can you not feel forever broken?
I try so hard, Samson. I try to see the good in life. I try not to let this pain make me bitter. I don’t want to hate the morning as it rises, but I do. Each day is another day without you. Another day of reliving the hardest moments. Another day where you should be here but aren’t.
Our family was so tight, and your loss has fractured us in ways I never imagined. Yet in this brokenness, you’ve also brought us closer. You’ve shown us the importance of boundaries and the truth about those around us. Your passing unveiled everything—the love, the lies, the pain, and the resilience.
But oh, Samson, the pain of those closest to us turning on us after your death—it’s unbearable. Family that wasn’t even allowed around you, now pretends to mourn you as if you were her own. I had family that had lost their son, family who I thought would stand by me, they only deepened the hurt with lies and betrayal. So much extra chaos on top of losing you, we should never have to go through.
It’s exhausting, Samson. I hate the anger, the bitterness, and the craving for an escape from this pain. I hate that the world is cruel enough to take you and leave me here to face it. But through all this, I fight every day not to let this pain define me. You were my purpose, my light, my reason.
I miss you with every breath, every thought, and every beat of my heart. I don’t know what life looks like without you, but I’ll keep trying. For you.
