Late October marks a bitter milestone for fans of Port Charles: the one-year anniversary of Sam McCall’s tragic departure.

The character, portrayed by Kelly Monaco, donated part of her liver to a friend and fell victim to a fatal heart attack shortly afterward—leaving a void not just in the story, but in the hearts of viewers.

Sam had been at the emotional core of General Hospital for over two decades. From her early days as the con-woman turned hero, to her enduring relationship with Jason Morgan, Sam represented resilience, love and a kind of flawed bravery that resonated with fans.

Her departure wasn’t simply a character exit—it felt like saying goodbye to something deeply familiar.

In the show’s narrative, her death rippled outward: Jason’s grief became the storyline focus, her friends and family recoiled, and the legal and medical fallout kept Port Charles off balance. But off-screen, the fan reaction was equally loud.

Tributes poured in, social-media campaigns that included billboards and petitions reflected the depth of feeling around Sam’s exit.

This anniversary forces the show—and its characters—to reckon with absence. There will likely be scenes where characters pause, reflect, perhaps gather at the site of Sam’s donation or commemorate her devotion. Whether the script honours Sam’s legacy or uses the moment for shock, the emotional weight is unavoidable. For Jason, it might be the memory that finally propels him beyond old guilt. For others like Carly, Liz or Maxie, it may be a reminder of what happens when you lose someone who understood you.

What makes this moment significant is how it ties into the show’s current balance of power and legacy. With Sam gone, the women of Port Charles feel her absence—not just in storylines but in purpose. The upcoming arcs of Portia Robinson, Nina Reeves, and even the Quartermaine women are all navigating spaces Sam once filled: strength, independence, moral ambiguity. Without that anchor, the show sets sail into darker, less forgiving waters.

For long-time viewers, Sam’s exit still stings—and the anniversary is less a date than a marker of change. Port Charles doesn’t just reflect on Sam McCall’s death—it reflects on what’s been lost. The question lingers: Has the town replaced her spirit, or has it conceded that some losses are permanent?