Day 4

Day 4

The fourth day in the hospital... Saturday, December 2nd. I haven't talked about this day yet because this was the day that made my world shatter and crumble. This will forever be etched as the darkest day of my entire life. Nothing could ever compare to this, and I don't believe anything ever will.

As I mentioned in previous posts, we were continually monitoring the brain activity. We had the CAT scans done, we had an EEG being done. The tests were all coming back with negative results. On Friday, they had conducted a test to monitor brain activity, the results of which were, of course... bleak. They did not detect any brain activity.

This is the point when the doctors sat me down and said we have to talk about the quality of life and brought up in that conversation that the machines were essentially sustaining him. It was just grim news upon grim news. So, I asked if we could have at least 1 more test done, give him more time, and that was when they told me that they could, but it had to be completed by a different doctor. They asked if I wanted it done that Friday night at 11 pm, or I could have it done right before the end of the shift for the other doctor, which was 6 am.

I, of course, chose the 6 am, so I could hold onto Samson longer. I knew the results would most likely not change, and I didn’t want to be told in the middle of the night more horrific news. I wanted the night with my baby. I knew I wouldn't be sleeping, and would just be lying next to him in the bed, holding his hand, and weeping over my boy. This was the night that God gave me the overwhelming peace, and I felt like He spoke to me, and said He already has Samson with Him.

Well, they conducted the test that Saturday morning... the results were the same. I stayed in the room this time to watch the test be performed. I had to see with my own eyes that he wasn't passing. That there were no reactions coming from him. I knew there weren't... even though I wanted to block it out and not accept it, I knew there hadn't been any changes...

My baby just lying there, completely lifeless. I couldn't help but just clutch onto him. Hold him, and sob. That's all our family did that entire morning. Hold each other, and weep. I asked, "what does this mean?" They informed me when we were ready, they would be removing him off life support.

I won't go into details, I know I am being very open in much of this, but there are some things that are far too painful to relive and have out there for the public. As much as I want to be open and share everything, there are some things I would rather leave for our family to remember.

They did end up removing him from life support.... and that life altering day, I had to leave my baby. I had to leave him there, and I felt like I was abandoning him. I stayed on him for hours... I didn't want to leave. I wouldn’t look at his face. That wasn’t my Samson. That wasn’t my smiling, happy, charismatic, charming, loving boy. I didn’t want that image of him forever sketched into my memory. I wanted the Samson I said I love you to, on November 29th 2023, to be etched into my memory forever.

I will never forget being asked where I wanted his body brought to. "What?!" I thought to myself. “What do you mean??” I had never even thought about it. When you're in the hospital praying for a miracle, you're not googling funeral homes in the meantime. You are not even letting your mind go to those places... so to be asked that. It just felt like another stab to the stomach.

I think that's one of the hardest parts in all this. Because of the demands, and preparations you need to make immediately after losing a loved one, such as a visitation, the service cards, the flowers, finding somewhere that had enough room to house the amount of people we anticipated, the catering... It is all more challenges piled onto you, that you don't think you can even handle.

You're going through the worst moment in your entire life, and then you have to throw together a service in 3 days. Meanwhile talking to auto insurance, medical insurance, detectives, investigators.  You don't even feel like you have time to grieve. I think that's why these last several weeks, for my husband and I, we feel like we have just finally started to process, and go through what even just happened to us. We have grieved this entire time, but the feeling of it becoming more and more real…Samson not walking through the door, he isn’t coming home from school… his Christmas presents still sitting. The chocolate advent calendars I bought for Samson and Gabe are still sitting on the counter. Gabe didn’t want his if he couldn’t open it with his brother. It all just knocks the wind out of you. Waves are the only description I have for it. You are continually being engulfed under wave after wave of a new level of grief you didn’t know existed.

In the midst of being a wreck in the following days after losing Samson I went into my robotic type A mode, and thought fine... If I have to plan a celebration of life for my son, it is going to be the best damn celebration I have ever seen. I just wanted it perfect for Samson. I wanted it to reflect how loved and cared for he was. I wanted it to be something he would be proud of. In my mind, I didn’t care what it took. I wouldn’t get to have a graduation party for him, I don’t get to be a part of a grooms dinner for him, a wedding. This had to be it, and it had to compensate for all the future I should have had, but was robbed of me when losing Samson. My siblings stayed with us that whole week. We would be up until 4 or 5am, going through thousands of pictures, trying to quickly put together our picture boards we had. Crying at some of the pictures, laughing at some of the others that would spark a happy memory for us, to screaming that we wouldn't get those moments again. I never could have pulled this off without my family. Halo’s- a nonprofit that helps parents who have lost children, our Church The Community Co., my girlfriends, and the Hockey moms from Mahtomedi. They set everything up for us, provided the food.. it just was insane to see the help come around side of us. I will never take that for granted. I have never felt like I had a community. I felt in that moment, I had a whole community behind me. We were truly so blessed by these hands that helped.

I never know how to end these posts. By the time I have finished writing, I am usually sobbing. I am going through all the emotions. I am reliving moments. I guess I will end this one by this, Samson, you were such a bright light. You were everything to your family. You were the one who was going to break chains and be the first one to take new ground. Your future was so bright. You were so loved, and you showed so much love. The amount of messages I have received from people at your school, friends, all saying you were the first to be nice to them, or you always picked them up when they were down,  has made me so proud of you. I already was, and this just added to it. We will never forget you saying, “Don’t be sad, you have one life. Don’t waste it being unhappy.” You left an enormous hole when you left. I know where you are, but that doesn’t take away from the heartache you have left me in. Love you, Baby. #LiveLikeSamson #Samstrong