Month 4
Month 4
Another Friday without you. I ordered groceries and still find myself instinctively reaching for your favorite foods and meals. I reminisce about how you loved it when I made Sloppy Joes, always accompanied by the Chris Farley and Adam Sandler rendition that never failed to make you smile. We were always goofy together. I loved when we were home alone because you and I had the same personality. The same humor, the same taste in music; whether we were going to be laughing or jamming, you were my favorite person to do it with.
If you could choose the meals, we would have indulged in steak, sushi, or your beloved Sloppies. If you could truly pick your meals, I have no doubt you would have delighted in foraging off the land. Squirrel or fish for protein, mushrooms, wild onions... those would have been the ingredients of your outdoor feasts. You had a rule - eat everything you caught. A rule that once cost me my air fryer when I discovered what you and your friends cooked in it...
With spring upon us, I can't help but imagine how you would have reveled in the great outdoors. Regardless of the weather, you were always eager to venture outside, but this warmer weather would have made your outdoor adventures even more exhilarating. Fewer layers to put on before heading out, more freedom to explore and enjoy the natural beauty around you.
What I wouldn't give to have you run through your weekend plans with me again, or even hear your voice. One of the biggest struggles I face is never having the chance to say goodbye to you, Samson. It is a wound that feels like it will never heal. Our last goodbye was before you left for school. I texted you shortly after, “we should get you a remote start for Christmas, would be nice for winter.” You, “would be cool.” Me again, “Love you baby, have a great day.” “Love you.” That was your final message to me, Samson. It brings tears to my eyes, but it also fills me with immense gratitude. One of the last things you said on this earth was, “Love you.” We were discussing your Christmas presents, and within an hour, I found myself being called to rush to the hospital... It's a reality that will never feel fair.
In those initial days at home, feeling utterly lost, sleep evading me, staying up until the early hours of the morning, staring at your pictures, overcome with grief, I cried out to God, asking, "Why didn't you heal my boy?! Why?! Why did you take him from me?! Why did you even give him to me, only to bring me pain and heartache?!" In that moment of despair, I heard a whisper, "Would you have rather never known him, or are you grateful for the 16 years you were able to share together?”
You're caught in a limbo of emotions and feelings. Of course, you're grateful for the time and would never want to take it back. Yet, you can't help but wonder how you might have prepared yourself differently. What would you have done differently if you could have? I ponder this question often.
One thing I would have changed is homeschooling Samson and Gabe. It's something I always wanted to do, but they enjoyed their schools. You reflect on the time lost, the trivial matters that didn't truly matter, and the people to whom you gave away precious time when you could have been with your child.
Another change I would have made is implementing a phone cubby for all our devices once we got home. But even as I consider that, I think about how the kids might have been annoyed with not being able to talk to friends, leading to potential fights. All these hypothetical changes swirl in your mind. How would they have affected our relationships? I always wanted the kids to be kids. I didn’t mind they sat on calls with friends for hours because I did too! It was one of my favorite memories growing up. Now hearing from Samson’s friends, such as Tristan, it will be one of the biggest things he misses doing with Samson. I wish I could have hoarded my time with Samson, but I was letting him live, and live life to the fullest. I always thought of the Bible verse John 10:10, “The thief only comes to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and may have it abundantly.” I wanted my kids to live life that way, in abundance. Abundance of joy, happiness, memories, and love.
So, Samson, on this day, as the sun shines brightly, I'll try to feel you in the warmth, and look for your eyes in the crystal blue of the sky. My heart aches every single day for you. Your undeniable absence overwhelms the house that used to hold you, and all your goodness. No matter the distance, no matter the passing of time, my sweet boy, you will always be mine.
