"Don't live my life"

When the pain engulfs you and the despair and agony seems endless, that is when you have no choice but to choose yourself.  And I'd like to think Sam told me to do just that.  I remember about a year ago, a few months before he died, that Sam and Nick and their friends were at our house doing what my older generation and unhip terminology would call gossiping.  It wasn’t uncommon.  Something in their conversation peaked my interest so of course, I asked one question and then another; sometimes they went on and on just to beckon me to offer my opinion I surmise and because they found my responses to their antics amusing since it was from the opposite gender with an added flavor of an older person’s view perhaps ancient to them.  I wish I could recall the details of what high school life activity it was about but it was so inconsequential at the time and so much heartache has passed through me for my mind now to recollect.  What I do remember though that is important now is that in my ongoing inquiries Sam finally thought we had talked about the subject long enough and was ready to move on to something else; that wasn’t uncommon either.  So Sam chuckled and said, “Mom, don’t live my life.”  And with that, I chuckled back amused by his outspoken thought and the conversation moved on.  I hear Sam’s voice and those words resound in my mind, “Mom, don’t live my life,” when I am down-and-out with grief and can’t possibly comprehend why I am still here when Sam is not.  It’s part of what I call “Sam talk.”  And it saves me.  So that I can choose to live my life and not drown in the depths of such wearing pain over the one I’ve lost.  Thank you, Sammy.  #muchlovetosam