Birth date: Jul 11, 1998 Death date: Sep 28, 2025
Samuel Martin Hagood Sheeder was born on July 11, 1998, in Dallas, Texas. He passed away in Annapolis, Maryland on September 28, 2025, after a moped accident. We know he is in heaven because he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Sa Read Obituary
I wrote this for those of us left behind. I hope it comforts and strengthens you.
Sam had an extraordinary gift for making people feel welcome and heard. His smile was always remarkably present!
Many, many years ago Sam became the first child that I ever entertained as ‘Santa’! Sitting on my lap in our living room, a very inquisitive Sam curiously pried as to how I drank the milk that accompanied all those ‘cookies for Santa’? It seemed to him that my beard and mustache might pose a problem. It was a question, I must admit, I had not anticipated. Not to worry, Sam quickly offered the brilliant solution of ‘a straw’! Through the years that followed I always treasured that initial encounter. Full of childhood innocence and wonder it served to inspire a lifetime of Christmas spirit in my wife and I, that we still, to this day, endeavor to share with those around us. Thank you Sam. Rest in Peace.
I first met Sam at a farmers market in Delray Beach, Florida. He came up to me with that unforgettable smile — charming, confident, and effortlessly outgoing. From the very first moment, I could tell this kid had a heart of gold.
Sam embodied what it truly means to be free — free from society’s expectations, free from fear, and fully himself in every way. He lived with a rare authenticity, guided by joy and curiosity, and he had a gift for making everyone around him feel seen and alive.
His spirit reminded us all that life is meant to be felt deeply, lived honestly, and shared openly. Sam will be remembered not only for his lighthearted charm but for his courage to be completely, unapologetically himself. One of my favorite memories of Sam was watching him and a friend singing on the beach. Sam’s impact will forever be with me to live more authentically.
My heart goes out to his family. Sending my love❤️
To Sam’s Family.
My name is Judd and i met your son down in Delray:)! What an incredible and warm human being! One day he came up to me and asked me how i knew a great friend of his name Cally. I told him i used to teach middle school in Tucson and she was a student who stayed in touch with me on FB. Our friendship even deepened , He was great young man, who did so much for the people around him and was truly a blessing in my life. My deepest condolences to all his family and close friends
With Much Love, Judd
Steve and I met Sam when he was just a few hours old, early in the morning on July 11, 1998, at Baylor Hospital. We called him the 7-Eleven Baby for being born on that date. We have such happy memories of sharing family meals, Andy (our son) swimming with Sam and Annie at the Sheeders’ house, going to their country house and riding on that ATV thing, Steve and Sam playing ferocious games of ping pong and hearing Sam sing at St. Mark’s. As the oh so cool older boy, Sam was always so great to Andy. These are photos of Sam and his beautiful Mama at Andy’s second birthday party in 2002, when Sam was about to turn four. Rest in peace, Samuel Martin Hagood Sheeder. With lots of love, Shelley
I always enjoyed seeing Sam at family gatherings and visiting with him. He loved horses and at one time, considered getting a job on a horse farm.
He called me one day and stated that he thought we were kin in sort of way. My reply was that my daughter, Suzanne, was his aunt by marriage so I guess that makes us kin through marriage. Sam then gave a sigh of relief and stated he now felt comfortable in asking my advice. He had questions on the tasks required on horse farms and who to contact for a job.
I firmly believe that there are animals in heaven and that Sam is now fulfilling his dream of being with horses.
My favorite day with Sam was on a full moon day last fall. He rigged up a hammock in the front lawn and we talked for hours about everything and nothing.
Taking me to Quiet Waters. I've never seen anything as beautiful as the sky and the shoreline that night. We saw a shooting star. You didn't have two thoughts about riding away from a park ranger. Rainbows at the boat club. Lavender and epsom. Be like water. Nacho fight and you insisting I keep that stupid table. Battle breathing and running through the parking garage in the cold. Teaching me about ocean breathing while stretching. Trading puns. Pet the boats for me. Hadestown and Walt Whitman. Baking cookies and 40$ pizza. How proud you looked whenever I ate good food. Putting four cherries in your ice cream. Saltwater For Strings and singing Morning Eyes together.
How much you loved Pups, how she'd only play tug-o-war with you if you held the duck toy in your teeth. You spoiling her and taking a bath with her, using Mane n' Tail for you both. Telling me to never take the collar you got for her off again. I haven't, Sam. And she's looking for you too. Sheepshank. Finding shark teeth on the beach. Sitting on your porch and talking. Sitting on your porch and arguing. Making fun of you for the ridiculous exercise outfits. Chocolate chip pancakes with peaches. To ma toes.
And you'd be so smug at how I'm trying to live all the inspirational things you told me, that I used roll my eyes at. You said so many things that it's like you knew I'd need it now. You and I got each other and got to each other like nothing else. Great and terrible, as all things are. Both so stubborn and I'm sorry for it, I'm so sorry. And I hate that I can't talk to you about it, so I'm here again, trying to get it out of my head. You'd tell me I'm thinking too much, it's never that serious. You're right though, we can do whatever we want. Evergreen.
Dear Frankie, I'm so very, very sorry to learn of the death of your son, Sam. He sounds like a truly wonderful loving and lovable young man.
I can't leave a story or memory because I never had the good fortune to know Sam. It's you I remember. So do please forgive me for calling you by your childhood name. But it's the name I knew you by on Rosehill Blvd. back in the mid-1970s. We were neighbors. And your mother and I were the closest of friends. I remember you as a lanky teenager. I remember your red hair. And I remember how once in a rare while I was able to talk you into babysitting for my boys, Doug and Greg. Your mother and I lost touch for many years, but happily are back in contact once again.
My sincerest condolences to you and the rest of the family.
Kathryn Stevens (Jerum)
