Samuel C. Rosario

A visitation will be held at 3:30 p.m. on Friday, April 18, at Runge Mortuary in Davenport, with a celebration of life service to follow at 5:30 p.m. Pasta—his favorite food—will be served at 6:30 p.m. at the funeral home.

Samuel was born in Davenport on June 8, 2001, to parents Romulus and Lourdes Rosario. Ever since he was a little boy, he was persistent about doing what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it—even and especially when Mom and Dad had other things in mind. One evening, shortly before he turned two years old, Sammy was working on a puzzle and refused to go to bed before he finished. Eventually, Mom and Dad got him to sleep. But then in the middle of the night, they woke up to some noise in the living room. When they went to investigate, there was Sammy, sitting on the floor and working on his puzzle again. For a couple minutes, they silently watched him put the pieces together. Then when he was done, he stood up, toddled back to his room, and went to bed.

Sammy brought this level of obsession and commitment to everything he did. He went to North High School, where he played cello in the orchestra, was involved in choir and show choir, and performed in drama club productions, all while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. As a senior, he was accepted into the Iowa All-State Chorus. He was also a member of the Quad City Symphony Youth Ensembles. Somehow, he did all this and more while devoting much of his time to his greatest passion: video games. His love for gaming started in elementary school, when he used to design his own characters in Microsoft Paint on the home computer. As a teenager, he played in tournaments at NorthPark Mall, where he sometimes won money. Some of his favorite games were Pokémon, Kingdom Hearts, Minecraft, The Legend of Zelda, Sonic, Super Smash Bros., and Kirby.

After graduating as a valedictorian in 2019, Sammy went on to the University of Iowa, where he majored in Informatics with an Art cognate and played in the All-University String Orchestra. He was only three credit hours away from a bachelor’s degree before he was forced to leave school due to illness. When he wasn’t studying—and sometimes maybe when he should have been studying—Sammy played video games into the late night hours, often livestreaming with his friends from Taunt Gaming Crew. He was very grateful that he was able to meet some of these friends in California during the summer of 2023.

It was during the last 20 months of his life that Sammy matured into the bravest man we know. Although PML took away his ability to speak, Sammy called all the shots during his treatment at the National Institutes of Health Clinical Center and other hospitals. He went from being the kid whose parents had to constantly remind him to take his medications, to being the adult who knew every medication he was on and when he wanted to be given it. Although he would have been well within his right to, Sammy never swore or asked, “Why me?” Instead, he was always looking to what was next—when his test results were coming back, how soon his stem cell transplant was, and what he needed to do to get better.

In the meantime, he created a beautiful life for himself. Always young at heart, he and his family watched many episodes of “Phineas and Ferb,” “Ben 10,” and “Spongebob” together, along with all of the MCU movies and comedies like “The Office” and “Friends.” He spent late nights playing Pokémon GO over FaceTime with his Aunt Michelle and cousins Lucia and Amilia, and he especially cherished their visits. Sammy was also a very good sport whenever his sister Isabella read books to him. During the nearly 16 months he spent at NIH, Sammy tasted his favorite foods, like fettuccine alfredo and watermelon, and had weekly jacuzzi parties complete with rubber ducks and music including everything from Kingdom Hearts to Toad Sings—all his ideas. His fun-loving spirit and ceaseless optimism endeared him to numerous doctors, nurses, and therapists who participated in his care. Even on the worst days, Sammy maintained his sense of humor, which was replete with bathroom references. “I may be pooping a lot, but [names redacted] are full of crap!” he told Dad one night using his letter board.

Every step of the way, Sammy told us what he wanted to do and when he wanted to do it. He knew that while a stem cell transplant was his only chance at a cure, it could also accelerate the disease process; t-cell therapy may have bought him more time. But like with everything he did, Sammy went all in. Knowing the risks, he told his parents about what kind of life he wanted to live and under what circumstances he wanted to be let go. In the end, he went out on his own terms, one of which was donating his brain to PML research.

Only in recent years did we learn that Sammy was born with severe combined immunodeficiency (SCID), a rare genetic mutation. Without treatment, the vast majority of children with SCID die before they turn two years old. Sammy’s life was a miracle. The experimental treatment protocols he underwent for PML gave us even longer with him. Our sadness at Sammy’s passing is far outweighed by our gratitude for the time we had with him. We look forward to seeing him again one day.

Those left to honor his memory include his parents, Rom and Lu Rosario; sister Isabella (Spencer) Rosario; grandparents Naty Esquivel, Benjamin Rosario, and Mila Rosario; aunts and uncles Vicky (Barry) Reed, Tess Esquivel, Carol (David) Odekirk, Ray (Terry) Rosario, Rachel (Tim) Baumann, Patricia (Bryan) Rosario, and Michelle Rosario; and cousins Taylor (Ryan) D’Eliseo, Spencer Odekirk, Logan Odekirk, Alexa Baumann, Nathan Baumann, Lucia Rosario Zdenahlik, and Amilia Rosario Zdenahlik. He was preceded in death by his Lolo, Vicente Esquivel.

In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke (NINDS) Gift Fund. Individuals and organizations can mail a check or money order made payable to “NINDS,” along with a letter stating that the money is to be used to support PML research in Dr. Irene Cortese’s lab. The mailing address is as follows:

NINDS

Financial Management Branch

P.O. Box 5801

Bethesda, MD 20824

For more information on donations to NINDS, visit www.ninds.nih.gov/about-ninds/who-we-are/donate-ninds