Only the young can say
— Journey
 

School was about to let out for the summer and pretty much only finals had to be completed.  Sam played basketball and with the school team basketball season over, Sam was now playing AAU basketball.  As a high school Sophomore, Sam often carried two backpacks, one his school backpack and the other contained his athletic gear; he considered them both essential as he loved playing basketball and he maintained a grade point average over 4.0.  His world was filled with friends, family, a welcoming home of faith as well as love for music as first chair tenor sax player.  Sam already had college plans to study finance.  That changed Mother’s Day 2014 when Sam and his friends, experimenting with drugs yet trying to avoid random school drug test detection, unknowingly were provided a synthetic drug, designed as LSD, that killed the 16-year-old from the research chemicals’ deadly components.

Postscript 2022:

Hi, I’m Sam’s mom. Actually, Sam and Nick’s mom. It was May 11, 2014 that public need for this website began. At the time, I had no idea how I needed it as well. Since Sam’s tragedy, I feel I own it here on Earth to do more to help others. I have an “after” journey. I “know now” inevitably about loss suffered so traumatically. I invite you to explore the Sam’s Watch website for life saving information for any teen or parent with “Know Now” updates of life’s current drug dangers for young people.

Who am I now?

I live in a lakeside burb of Indianapolis with my husband, David, while my son, Nick, pursues his early engineering career; the world his oyster. I daydream wondering what Sam’s pursuits at college would have been. Into my “after,” I have emerged with a graduate degree and established a psychotherapy practice where I explore with my patients whom they may become in the midst of their tragedy.

 

Jeanine

Sam’s mom

You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place, I told him, like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and place, because you’ll never be this way again.
— Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran