
- calvinld
- May 10
- 2 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
This Mother’s Day, my heart is filled with both love and longing.
CJ—my son, my light, my joy—should be home right now. He should be walking through the door with his bags after finishing his freshman year of college. We should be laughing, catching up on everything that happened this semester, talking about summer plans, and dreaming about what’s next.
But instead, I sit here with memories. Photos. Jerseys. His water bottle. And the silence.
From the time CJ was five, he was in motion. He started with T-ball, tried basketball, and fell in love with baseball. Not just the game, but the grind. He played travel ball for nearly a decade—tournaments across Florida, North Carolina, Alabama. He trained hard. He hit harder. He grew into a power-hitter, a fierce lineman, and a respected teammate.
He added football in middle school, played both sports through high school, and never let up. He practiced more than he played. He stayed focused. He stayed humble.
CJ had sickle cell trait—a genetic marker, not a disease. He lived 18 full, healthy years. Because he trained smart, stayed hydrated, and took care of his body. He never had any complications or symptoms from SCT—not once. He was always aware of what his body needed and how to prepare for the demands of competitive sports. Note according to the agenda, the Day 1 workout was to be just weightlifting techniques
CJ had dreams—big ones. He had over 10 Division I football offers. He wanted to be a pharmacist. He chose Bucknell because he believed it would help him grow on and off the field.
But just two days after arriving on campus, CJ was gone.
As a family, we are still waiting for full transparency and answers. We continue to honor CJ’s life by sharing his story, and by advocating for stronger protections for college athletes across the country.
I remain proud. Proud of the young man CJ was. Proud of what he stood for. Proud of the legacy he leaves behind.
This letter is for him. For every athlete with a dream. And for every mother who loves her child more than words can hold.
Forever 18. CJ will be forever in my heart.
—Mom