3 months

It has been 90 days since I received the call that would forever stop, change, and alter our lives. 8:46 am... I think it's a call that will be etched in my mind forever.

"Is this Michaela Ross? Ma'am, your son has been in a car accident. He is in critical condition and was brought to Regions. You need to head there immediately."

"What?! Is he ok?! FUCK!" I screamed into the phone. “You just need to head there immediately.” I was out of the house within seconds. Panic consumed me. Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh my baby. I tried to call his phone, just to see if he would answer while in the ambulance... that will help me, I thought. If I can talk to him, he can explain it all, and I can tell him mama is coming.

I called Tom immediately; he left work to meet me at the hospital. Forgetting my Mother-in-Law was supposed to be leaving for Florida that morning to head to my Brother-in-Law's, I called her on repeat. I wanted her. I needed her. She lost my Brother-in-Law, Robb, 12 years prior... I had seen a mother's heartache before. She has been a mother to me and replaced that figure in many ways, and I needed her to be there with me.

I called my dad, my sister, my brother. I needed mine and Samson's team behind us. No idea of how bad it would be. I was thinking and praying it was broken bones. Broken bones can be reset; your brain cannot.

Everything about that day, that time, honestly, the first month is such a blur. Time is at a standstill. It feels like I know the world is still turning, but my world has stopped altogether. I hold onto the memories I have so tightly. I want to remember every single one of them. I rack my brain repeatedly, trying to remember moments. Thinking about his smile, his voice.

His room still smells so much like him. We keep it shut, and I will spray a spray of his cologne every few days, so that the smell continues. Aside from the cologne, I can smell him in there. I can see him in there. His LAX bag is in the corner, his gear inside it still. Every time I see it, I think about a couple of weekends prior to his accident when he had filled it. He and a friend were walking out of his room, and I had been standing there talking to them. I saw his lacrosse bag full, and said, "Oh, are you guys going to spend the night somewhere?"

"Nah," he said.

"Well, why do you have your bag full, and why are you bringing it?" I asked.

He threw his hands like he was shooting a basketball and made a whistle noise. We both busted out laughing, and I go, "Ohhhh, so you're TPing someone, huh?" We had just been egged the weekend before with an ongoing TP the house battle. Ha! He just giggled, did his smirk, and he and his buddy were on their way. Tom listened in and said, "Don't you think you should tell him no, maybe?" and laughed.

"Well... maybe I should, but it makes me laugh that they all get each other.” I felt like, hey, kids could be doing a lot worse. Let them be kids. Plus, you have to be extra sneaky with the number of cameras now days. A challenge Samson thrived in.

I always pushed for him to join the Air Force or Navy once he graduated. I thought that he would excel in that environment. He was an outdoors kid. When we watched "The Walking Dead," I always told Samson I would be safe if I had him. He could catch anything, he would eat anything, he could build us shelter. Lol, this kid was handy if you wanted to do anything outside.

I love thinking about those moments. I want to sit and relive them over and over. It makes you wish there were time portals, a way to get back to them. No matter how outlandish it may sound, you wish it were real, if it gave you access to them one more time.

If I only had one more day with you, Samson. One more day... what would we do? I would want to just hold onto you, but also do something you love. If I truly had one day with you, I would take you to Zion National Park. That was our next stop on the National Parks list. I would have loved to see your face while you take it all in. I'd love to see your smile, the glimmer in your eyes. The laugh, oh the sound of your laugh. I could listen to it on repeat. What I wouldn't give to hear, "Hey Ma" one more time.

Time hasn't made any of this easier yet. My heart still shatters today, the way it did 3 months ago. I don't know how I can live with this pain that is caused by your absence, Samson. I am trying though, for your brother and dad. I miss you, but it's not even an "I miss you" pain. It is a throbbing, ache that lingers all day. The hole you left behind is gaping, Samson. Our lives will never be the same. Until I see you again, my sweet boy.