Lost

Samson... Writing about you has been incredibly challenging. Each time I try, it's as if I'm reopening a wound that never truly heals. The pain is constant, but somehow, trying to put it into words amplifies it even more.

So often, I find myself gazing into the sky, the moon, the sunsets, desperate for any trace of you. Losing a child... it's a torment that shakes the very core of my being. There are moments when I feel like I'm unraveling, moments when I can't lift myself from the ground, when screams echo into the void. It's as if reality itself glitches, leaving me grasping for any thread that might reconnect me to you. I search for your essence, yearning to feel your presence once more...

It is something my brain will never be able to comprehend. Much of this, my brain will never comprehend.

We saw some family friends this weekend, and we discussed the shock of it all. My neighbor has military and policing as his background, and has worked with people in shock. Himself and his wife both told me that they had never seen a person in true shock like I was at the service. I still have no memory. I think that is a blessing and curse. I don't want to relive that moment, but I wish I had been more aware. Our neighbors had said, "You looked like you had seen a ghost. We could tell you were in shock, and not present." I wasn't. I don't even know how to be present in life again. I don't know how to be here anymore, Samson. I am here for Gabe, but man alive... we shouldn't have to be doing this.

They also talked about how they were rerouted while bringing their son to school, right behind Samson. They were minutes behind the accident. With my neighbors' many years of policing and my college background in Criminal Justice/Policing, we racked our brains together to make sense of this. He didn't work in the accident reconstruction field, neither did I, but you use your common sense to try and piece it all together. The roads were glare ice, even the neighbor had been sliding around that morning in his truck. Samson didn't swerve, neither did the other driver... why? Did they not see each other? It was right before a turn... that's the only thing we can think of. It is a passing zone, right before a turn, and I don't think they even saw each other. It is something that quite literally, drives my mind into insanity. You want to make sense of why your child is no longer here. We are of course, very grateful the other driver survived. I don’t want harm to come to anyone. I think at times though, it makes it harder to reason with, knowing my son was the only one who didn’t survive. Wondering why he wasn’t able to make it as well.

He was barely 16. He had been driving for weeks... WEEKS. Accidents are anticipated with young drivers. It is something you expect to happen when your child starts driving. That was the reason we got him a car we didn't care if he dinged up. That was Tom's biggest thing, don't get a car that we are going to be upset with him ruining. I had never anticipated this would be his first accident and take his life. No one would. We don't send our children to school expecting them to die on their way. We don't raise our kids expecting they won't make it to adulthood. We don't send our kids out, thinking they will never return. You just can never prepare yourself for this.

I want to try and share at least one story of Samson, amidst the expression of emotions I share. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about his lacrosse. It's that time of year when I would see him and his brother out playing. I keep picturing him getting excited for school to be wrapping up.

He was supposed to build a pole barn with my dad up north this summer. He was so anxious to go and make some money, but the mama in me said no. I didn't want him gone for the week, only home on weekends. We went back and forth on it and then concluded he could work for our neighbor at his landscaping company and stay close to me. I couldn't handle being away from him.

He worked with my dad in the summer of 2023 and would spend the night with my dad for three nights. I wasn't handling it well. I was driving an hour each way, several times a week, to bring Samson lunch. He always wanted two spicy chicken sandwiches from Mickey D's and a Tiger Brown Sugar milk tea Boba. I was thrilled to do it. I wanted Samson to know I would always be there, a parent he could count on. Whether it was for Boba or something serious, I am your safe place.

I loved seeing his big smile when I would pull up. He would take me all around the house, show me what work he did, the walls he put up, the trusses they were working on, getting to drive my dad's heavy machinery. He was so proud of himself when he used the skid steer to lift the pallets and windows for my dad. Samson was such a hard worker. That was one of the first things his high school lacrosse coach told me. "I have never seen a kid with as much grit and determination as Samson." It made me beam. My boy, my beautiful boy.

Samson, I love you so much. You made such an impact on so many people. I am so grateful I was able to have you in my life. You were an amazing boy who made your mama so proud. Until our souls meet again, I will keep sharing about you.