Memories of Michael Andrew Ross

In memory of

Michael Andrew Ross

Jamul

November 27, 2002 - April 24, 2025

Nov 27, 2002 - Apr 24, 2025

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Kimberly Keane

Brianna Schultz

Kimberly Keane

Brianna Schultz

Kimberly Keane

Brianna Schultz

Nikki Pietkiewicz

Kimberly Keane

Please consider a donation to Michael's Resting Place.

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Kimberly Keane

Brianna Schultz

Kimberly Keane

Brianna Schultz

Kimberly Keane

Brianna Schultz

Kimberly Keane

Brianna Schultz

Mary Gill

Shared a heart

Kavi Nelakonda

Shared a heart

Kimberly Keane

George Taylor

Ty Hunt

Comments:

Kimberly Keane

Thank you to the Melee community for sharing this picture of my handsome boy, and for creating a circle of... Read more Thank you to the Melee community for sharing this picture of my handsome boy, and for creating a circle of friends that Michael... Read more Thank you to the Melee community for sharing this picture... Read more

Kyle Guffey

Shared a heart

Emma Reasoner

Shared a heart

Emma Reasoner

Brianna Schultz

Comments:

Kimberly Keane

I love his smile 💕 I love his smile 💕 I love his smile 💕

Emma Reasoner

2009, Mt Helix Academy, Severin Drive, La Mesa, CA, USA

2nd Grade Class photo

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Kimberly Keane

Comments:

Kimberly Keane

Thanks for sharing Emma💕 Thanks for sharing Emma💕 Thanks for sharing Emma💕

Brenda Ivy

So sorry for your loss my thoughts and prayers ❤️

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Barbara Hale

Brianna Schultz

Kimberly Keane

Comments:

Kimberly Keane

Awww I love it. Means a lot that you shared ❤️ Awww I love it. Means a lot that you shared ❤️ Awww I love it. Means a lot that you shared ❤️

Marco Salazar De Leon

Detroit, MI, USA

Stephen, Michael, and I shared a hotel room in Detroit for a Melee tournament and it was so much getting to know him better. So many great conversations and walks around the city.

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Kimberly Keane

Abbie Medina

George Taylor

Comments:

Kimberly Keane

Thanks for sharing 🩷 Thanks for sharing 🩷 Thanks for sharing 🩷

Brianna Schultz

2021, Jamul, CA, USA

Michael with his doubled up bamboo pillows. He kept them fully stuffed, geniunely felt like sleeping on a rock but he loved them.

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Kimberly Keane

Emma Reasoner

Abbie Medina

George Taylor

Ty Hunt

Comments:

Ty Hunt

I have little doubt they weren't "optimal" I have little doubt they weren't "optimal" I have little doubt they weren't "optimal"

Brianna Schultz

2023, Clairemont, San Diego, CA, USA

Michael seeing how his shoes looked with his clothes but without actually putting them on.

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Kimberly Keane

Emma Reasoner

Robbi Palstring

Abbie Medina

Brianna Schultz

2023, Clairemont, San Diego, CA, USA

One of many ground turkey meals.

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Kimberly Keane

Emma Reasoner

Robbi Palstring

Abbie Medina

George Taylor

Brianna Schultz

2023, Clairemont Town Square, Clairemont Drive, San Diego, CA, USA

Michael trying on his panda sleeping mask, we had matching ones.

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Kimberly Keane

Abbie Medina

Brianna Schultz

2023, Clairemont, San Diego, CA, USA

Kimberly Keane

Emma Reasoner

Kimberly Keane

Mother’s Day 2024

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Cheryl Mendoza

Emma Reasoner

Abbie Medina

Comments:

Kimberly Keane

As a mother, my entire identity was wrapped around my boys. They were my heart’s greatest joy, the source of laughter in my soul, and the love that filled every corner of my being.

From the time they were little, I found pure happiness in the everyday moments—snuggling under a blanket, teaching them to sing, dance, and ride a bike. I kissed every scraped knee and whispered reassurances that everything would be okay, back then they believed me.  I was their hero once, and in their beautiful innocence and love, they became mine.

As they grew, each with his own vibrant and unique personality, I often stood in awe of their wisdom, their insight, and the way they approached life’s challenges—individually and together. Watching them navigate the world, side by side, brought me a kind of love so deep, so overwhelming, that words never felt big enough to contain it. I wasn’t just proud of them as individuals—I was profoundly moved by the bond they shared as brothers and best friends.

What brought me the greatest joy in life was their closeness. They chose each other—not just by blood, but as friends, roommates, confidants. I treasured every visit, every memory we created. Whether we were deep in conversation, playing our own hilarious version of Scattergories, or just laughing and debating for hours over the smallest things, we were connected by something rare and beautiful. Our honesty, our openness—it was sacred to me.

Now, with Mother's Day here, I feel hollow. It’s horrifically clear that half of my soul died with Michael, and the part that remains is shattered, watching Matt endure the this unbearable loss. Matt, Brianna, Abbie, and I are carrying a grief so heavy it feels impossible to move beneath it.

Yesterday, I ran out of the grocery store in tears—without what I went for. I needed to run as fast as I could from the flowers, the cards, the candies that screamed Mother’s Day—each one an agonizing reminder of what I’ve lost. Of the shattered dreams. Of the life that should be, but never will be again.

The world keeps spinning—it’s unfathomable to me. All I want is to stop time, to go back, to wrap my arms around my beautiful boy, and somehow convince Michael that things were going to be okay. I needed him to believe me that things were going to be okay.

But now, all I’m convinced of is that our world will never be okay again…

Please share, repost Michael’s story in the hopes that it opens conversations between people who are struggling with depression and those who love them. In some small way it will also help keep his memory alive.

As a mother, my entire identity was wrapped around my boys. They were my heart’s greatest joy, the source... Read more of laughter in my soul, and the love that filled every corner of my being.

From the time they were little, I found pure happiness in the everyday moments—snuggling under a blanket, teaching them to sing, dance, and ride a bike. I kissed every scraped knee and whispered reassurances that everything would be okay, back then they believed me. I was their hero once, and in their beautiful innocence and love, they became mine.

As they grew, each with his own vibrant and unique personality, I often stood in awe of their wisdom, their insight, and the way they approached life’s challenges—individually and together. Watching them navigate the world, side by side, brought me a kind of love so deep, so overwhelming, that words never felt big enough to contain it. I wasn’t just proud of them as individuals—I was profoundly moved by the bond they shared as brothers and best friends.

What brought me the greatest joy in life was their closeness. They chose each other—not just by blood, but as friends, roommates, confidants. I treasured every visit, every memory we created. Whether we were deep in conversation, playing our own hilarious version of Scattergories, or just laughing and debating for hours over the smallest things, we were connected by something rare and beautiful. Our honesty, our openness—it was sacred to me.

Now, with Mother's Day here, I feel hollow. It’s horrifically clear that half of my soul died with Michael, and the part that remains is shattered, watching Matt endure the this unbearable loss. Matt, Brianna, Abbie, and I are carrying a grief so heavy it feels impossible to move beneath it.

Yesterday, I ran out of the grocery store in tears—without what I went for. I needed to run as fast as I could from the flowers, the cards, the candies that screamed Mother’s Day—each one an agonizing reminder of what I’ve lost. Of the shattered dreams. Of the life that should be, but never will be again.

The world keeps spinning—it’s unfathomable to me. All I want is to stop time, to go back, to wrap my arms around my beautiful boy, and somehow convince Michael that things were going to be okay. I needed him to believe me that things were going to be okay.

But now, all I’m convinced of is that our world will never be okay again…

Please share, repost Michael’s story in the hopes that it opens conversations between people who are struggling with depression and those who love them. In some small way it will also help keep his memory alive. Read less As a mother, my entire identity was wrapped around my boys. They were my heart’s greatest joy, the source of laughter in my soul,... Read more and the love that filled every corner of my being.

From the time they were little, I found pure happiness in the everyday moments—snuggling under a blanket, teaching them to sing, dance, and ride a bike. I kissed every scraped knee and whispered reassurances that everything would be okay, back then they believed me. I was their hero once, and in their beautiful innocence and love, they became mine.

As they grew, each with his own vibrant and unique personality, I often stood in awe of their wisdom, their insight, and the way they approached life’s challenges—individually and together. Watching them navigate the world, side by side, brought me a kind of love so deep, so overwhelming, that words never felt big enough to contain it. I wasn’t just proud of them as individuals—I was profoundly moved by the bond they shared as brothers and best friends.

What brought me the greatest joy in life was their closeness. They chose each other—not just by blood, but as friends, roommates, confidants. I treasured every visit, every memory we created. Whether we were deep in conversation, playing our own hilarious version of Scattergories, or just laughing and debating for hours over the smallest things, we were connected by something rare and beautiful. Our honesty, our openness—it was sacred to me.

Now, with Mother's Day here, I feel hollow. It’s horrifically clear that half of my soul died with Michael, and the part that remains is shattered, watching Matt endure the this unbearable loss. Matt, Brianna, Abbie, and I are carrying a grief so heavy it feels impossible to move beneath it.

Yesterday, I ran out of the grocery store in tears—without what I went for. I needed to run as fast as I could from the flowers, the cards, the candies that screamed Mother’s Day—each one an agonizing reminder of what I’ve lost. Of the shattered dreams. Of the life that should be, but never will be again.

The world keeps spinning—it’s unfathomable to me. All I want is to stop time, to go back, to wrap my arms around my beautiful boy, and somehow convince Michael that things were going to be okay. I needed him to believe me that things were going to be okay.

But now, all I’m convinced of is that our world will never be okay again…

Please share, repost Michael’s story in the hopes that it opens conversations between people who are struggling with depression and those who love them. In some small way it will also help keep his memory alive. Read less As a mother, my entire identity was wrapped around ... Read moremy boys. They were my heart’s greatest joy, the source of laughter in my soul, and the love that filled every corner of my being.

From the time they were little, I found pure happiness in the everyday moments—snuggling under a blanket, teaching them to sing, dance, and ride a bike. I kissed every scraped knee and whispered reassurances that everything would be okay, back then they believed me. I was their hero once, and in their beautiful innocence and love, they became mine.

As they grew, each with his own vibrant and unique personality, I often stood in awe of their wisdom, their insight, and the way they approached life’s challenges—individually and together. Watching them navigate the world, side by side, brought me a kind of love so deep, so overwhelming, that words never felt big enough to contain it. I wasn’t just proud of them as individuals—I was profoundly moved by the bond they shared as brothers and best friends.

What brought me the greatest joy in life was their closeness. They chose each other—not just by blood, but as friends, roommates, confidants. I treasured every visit, every memory we created. Whether we were deep in conversation, playing our own hilarious version of Scattergories, or just laughing and debating for hours over the smallest things, we were connected by something rare and beautiful. Our honesty, our openness—it was sacred to me.

Now, with Mother's Day here, I feel hollow. It’s horrifically clear that half of my soul died with Michael, and the part that remains is shattered, watching Matt endure the this unbearable loss. Matt, Brianna, Abbie, and I are carrying a grief so heavy it feels impossible to move beneath it.

Yesterday, I ran out of the grocery store in tears—without what I went for. I needed to run as fast as I could from the flowers, the cards, the candies that screamed Mother’s Day—each one an agonizing reminder of what I’ve lost. Of the shattered dreams. Of the life that should be, but never will be again.

The world keeps spinning—it’s unfathomable to me. All I want is to stop time, to go back, to wrap my arms around my beautiful boy, and somehow convince Michael that things were going to be okay. I needed him to believe me that things were going to be okay.

But now, all I’m convinced of is that our world will never be okay again…

Please share, repost Michael’s story in the hopes that it opens conversations between people who are struggling with depression and those who love them. In some small way it will also help keep his memory alive. Read less

Jennifer Pippard

Kim, heartbroken to hear your news. If I can be sure of anything it is that you embrace motherhood with all... Read more Kim, heartbroken to hear your news. If I can be sure of anything it is that you embrace motherhood with all the enthusiasm possible.... Read more Kim, heartbroken to hear your news. If I can be sure... Read more

Kimberly Keane

Abbie Medina

Kimberly Keane

Abbie Medina

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Created with love by Kimberly Keane (Michael's mother), Brianna Schultz (Michael's girlfriend), Matthew Ross (Michael's brother) and Abbie Medina (Michael's friend).

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Michael Andrew Ross

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Michael Andrew Ross

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