Last night was the visitation for Samantha

May 13, 2026
Last night was the visitation for Samantha.
Walking into the church, I (Cheryl) felt faint. My head spun. I took a breath that caught in my throat. Then a part of myself seemed to detach and hover while another part stepped forward to manage the afternoon and evening with composure.
My head hurt.
I was obsessed with finding the right space for the “Abide” painting my friend made in remembrance of Samantha. It seemed the only small thing I might have some control over.
The casket was closed. The body that the funeral home worked so hard to prepare simply did not hold Samantha anymore and it could not capture her vibrant spirit. The most honorable thing to do was to close the casket and focus on her candid pictures in the slideshow and the beautiful posed senior photo that adorned her casket.
Casket… And Samantha… These two words should never go together.
The line of people seemed to be never ending. The composed part of me stayed in charge as Bryon and I pasted on smiles and welcomed the condolences of the multitude that was there to support to us all. In return, we offered condolences to her family, her friends, her classmates, and the children that she worked with in the after school program.
A little blonde girl approached us with a drawing that she made of her and Samantha, telling us the story of how Samantha was her teacher and taught her “waterfall breathing” to help her calm down when she was feeling upset.
Her professor from DMACC approached with tears in his eyes and presented to Bryon the final paper that he had graded for Samantha, a red “A” noted on the front page along with the date of April 28, just a few days before she died.
My feet hurt from standing in heels and an inner critical voice at the back of my head wondered why did I wear a coral jumpsuit? No one else was wearing something so bright. Imposter syndrome continued with thoughts of “I’m only the stepmom”. An ache in the pit of my belly.
I looked at Bryon. His demeanor, so welcoming and receptive with an unfamiliar deep sadness in his eyes and his posture, my wonderful husband, such a loving, protective and warm father.
I heard him honoring Samantha’s mother, Maggie, to the mourners, recognizing her as having been the best mom possible to Sam … and meaning it. I looked across the room at Maggie, through the sea of people, and knew it was true. My heart ached for her.
Finally, after the line had trickled, driving home, we wondered how we did it. We quietly ate burgers at home with family that our son and daughter-in-law grabbed at a drive thru, then acknowledged the need to go to bed. Exhausted, we slept with the help of medicine and a prayerful meditation.
Now, it is funeral day.
Psalm 29:11 The Lord will give strength to his people, the Lord his blesses people with peace.









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