1 | Samaj
I've had the last three weeks to grieve and process the pain, but loss was a type of heaviness I didn’t know how to carry, let alone get rid of.
Even after laying my brother to rest and watching his casket disappear into the ground I found no closure.
I had a dark cloud following me everywhere, from the hospital back to my apartment, and every time I stepped outside, it was right there waiting for me.
Most days it's now become part of my personality.
I’m fully aware I’m not the easiest person to be around these days. I don’t hang out. I don't attend events. And unless I absolutely have to, I don't socialize because, honestly, talking feels like work. I’ve been avoiding my closest friends, and if I’m not at school I’m locked up in my apartment.
I sat on the edge of my bed longer than I should have, elbows resting on my knees, rubbing my face like I could somehow scrub the grief off.
It didn’t. It never does.
Shiloh would’ve been nineteen today and it just didn’t feel fair. Last night I stayed up rereading our last text thread.
That day felt like every day. No signs of tragedy. No forewarning that death was lurking in the shadows.
Samaj: You ready for this season or you still living off last year’s highlights?
Shiloh: Man please. This is our year. I’m calling it now deep playoff run
Samaj: You say that every season. Hope is strong but your logic is weak.
Shiloh: Spoken like a true hater lol. Wait till week 3. I’m saving this convo too!
Samaj: Do what you gotta do but your QB still can’t see my QB.
Shiloh: The hype around your QB doesn’t match his talent.
Samaj: You sound like a sports analyst on TikTok.
Shiloh: And you sound like somebody who’s gonna pretend he never doubted us when we start winning.
Samaj: If ya’ll make it to the playoffs I’ll buy your jersey. If not, you gotta admit I was right.
Shiloh: Deal. But when I’m right, I’m never letting you forget it and I want a 10 piece from Drays. Hot Honey ALL FLATS!
Samaj: Lol I got you.
Shiloh: Aight big bro. Stay black. Love u.
Samaj: Wouldn’t change it if I could. Love you too
Speaking of Black, after a quick shower, I threw on a black Gymshark hoodie, matching black sweats, and black Nike slides because that was the only energy I had today—dark. I was going to wear grief today whether I liked it or not.
By the time I made it to campus, I was already twenty minutes late.
The moment I pushed open the classroom door, every head turned my way. My professor, Dr. Allen, stopped mid-sentence.
He was the type of professor who gave people a hard time as if he were getting paid more to do so. Unfortunately, I needed this stupid class, so like most of us I tried to keep my head down and get it over with.
He had that look on his face like he’d been waiting all morning for somebody to piss him off, and I just happened to be the answer to his prayer.
“Mr. Stephens,” he said, removing his glasses.
“Class started at nine.”
I clenched my jaw. “My bad.”
“Your bad?” he scoffed. “In the real world, you can’t just roll out of bed and stroll into work when you feel like it. Don't expect me to repeat any of the lectures.”
Normally, I’d let comments like that roll off, but today, my patience was hanging on by a thread.
“I said my bad,” I repeated, this time with a little more bass in my voice.
The entire class watched the exchange like it was entertainment, which annoyed me even more because if you knew me, you knew I was quiet, laid-back, and hated being the center of attention.
Dr. Allen pinched the bridge of his nose and waved a hand toward the back. “Just take a seat, Mr. Stephens and try to be on time like everyone else.”
I swallowed the irritation building in my throat and headed to my seat, feeling every stare burn into me. I didn't have time to start problems. I was about two months away from graduating and that was my only focus.
The rest of the day dragged on. I didn’t talk to anyone.
Didn’t laugh. Didn’t respond when guys tried to dap me up in the hallway.
My mind stayed on Shiloh the whole time.
Him as a kid tagging along behind me, him cracking jokes, him borrowing my hoodies with no plans of returning them.
I would give anything to have more time with him.
One more conversation, even one more disagreement would’ve been better than not being able to call or text him right now.
By 12 noon I was done with classes and had plans to go see my dad. Once I hit the parking garage, I spotted my car, but I wasn’t expecting to see someone hovering nearby. I was ready to curse them out, but then I realized who it was—Simone.
She stood in front of my windshield, her hair pulled into a neat bun that I’d grown accustomed to her wearing. Her oversized glasses sliding down her nose as she wrote something on a small piece of paper.
Simone was the kind of girl who stayed smiling, like the world had never hit her with anything heavy. A social butterfly who would spark conversations with anyone.
I’d never actually talked to her though.
Not more than a nod. But I noticed her. It was hard not to.
Our classroom was set up in a semicircle and from where I always sat, she would be on the opposite side, facing me.
She looked like the definition of sunshine.
Whenever I found my mind drifting from the lecture, it drifted toward her.
I even found myself noticing little things, like how she must have a thing for sea turtles because her laptop was covered in stickers of them.
She finished writing, slid the note beneath my windshield wiper gently, then stepped back like she wanted it to be perfect. She looked—nervous, like whatever she’d written really meant something to her.
Before I could call out to her, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, answered the call, and hurried toward the stairs, never once turning around. I walked up to my car slowly, pulled the note free, and unfolded it, equal parts eager and nervous to see what she’d written.
I hope today gets lighter for you.
Hard days don’t last forever.
Under that, she wrote a scripture:
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.”
–Psalm 34:18
My throat tightened.
I hadn’t told anybody what today was. I hadn’t said a word to her. But somehow, she saw me, really saw me. It was crazy but comforting all at the same time. It was strange and comforting all at one.
I leaned against my car door for a minute, staring at those words, letting the warmth wash through the cold I had been carrying since this morning.
It didn’t erase the grief, but it calmed it for the time being.
She didn’t owe me kindness. She didn’t even know me like that.
But she saw something on my face today and cared enough to say something.
That meant more to me than she’d probably ever know.
I folded the note carefully and slid into my blacked-out Porsche Taycan Turbo, tucking it into the cup holder before starting the engine.
It took nearly two hours to get to my dad's office in Blairwood, but I didn't mind the ride. I remembered being anxious to get my license and convincing my parents to buy me a car shortly after.
At first, driving was a way to be more independent and have a little more freedom to go wherever I wanted but, over the years, though, it had become something therapeutic.
The hum of the engine, the rhythm of the tires, and the way the world blurred past the windows bring me a sense of peacefulness like nothing else. Some of my best thinking happens while I’m on the road. If I'm honest, some of my worst thoughts get worked out there too.
The tall glass building looked as cold as my dad acted most days.
My stomach tightened the second I stepped into the lobby.
Talking to my father lately felt like stepping into a room with no air, structured, stiff, and suffocating.
Grief didn’t bring us closer. If anything, losing Shiloh stretched the space between us.
Not just my dad, but my mom too. I guess in a way, I should be grateful that even if my dad wasn’t the easiest person to be around, at least he hadn’t disappeared like my mom.
She was always gone somewhere drinking her life away.
It was like she’d forgotten she still had another son and a husband who needed her.
Going days without seeing or hearing from her had become our new normal.
We all dealt with my brother's passing in different ways. My dad let his contracting business consume him, my mom let alcohol consume her, and me... well, I don't know. All I knew was that I wasn’t okay, and I hated that I still didn’t feel like myself.
I exhaled slowly, squared my shoulders, and pressed the elevator button to take me to the 13th floor. Simone’s words echoed in the back of my mind, soft as a whisper.
Hard days don’t last forever.
I hope she was right.
The elevator ride to my dad’s floor felt longer than it should have. When the doors slid open, the whole floor was rigid and silent—everyone typing like they were afraid to break a key.
I walked past a few cubicles where I knew the accounting, finance, and sales teams sat. A couple of people gave polite smiles, then immediately looked back at their screens like eye contact might get them fired. Apparently, the energy my dad brought home had followed him to work.
I got to his assistant’s desk, and she looked busy but still gave a smile before letting me know I could go into his office. I liked Ms. Lena. My dad had a few other assistants over the years, but she’s the one who has lasted the longest. She was a no-nonsense lady, but had a heart of gold.
I knocked twice on my father’s office door before pushing it open. He was sitting behind his desk, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He glanced up just long enough to say, “Hey, Maj.”
“Dad.”
He motioned toward the chair in front of him. “Sit down.”
The tension between us never seemed to soften, not even on days like this. No hugs. No “how are you holding up.” Nothing. Just routine formality. For some reason, we couldn’t see eye to eye even on the smallest things.
I sat back in the chair, tapping my thumb against my knee. “So,” he said, clasping his hands, “with graduation around the corner have you finalized your plans?”
I nodded. “Yep. Plan A: get offered a job and move to Union Heights. Plan B: move to Union Heights and then find a job once I get there.”
His eyes narrowed. “Union Heights,” he repeated, like the words left a bad taste in his mouth. “I thought we discussed this.”
“No,” I corrected, “You discussed it, and I listened. At the end of the day, it’s my life. My choice.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I don’t understand why you’re running across the country when you have an opportunity here. A stable one. A guaranteed one. You could work under me, learn the business, eventually take over—”
“Dad.” I sat forward. “Why would I want to work here when half your coworkers don’t even want to work here? Everybody looks like they’re scared to piss you off. Probably can’t wait to clock out at the end of the day.” I shrugged. “I’ll save myself the trouble.”
He leaned back like my words landed harder than he’d expected. I respected my dad, but he should know better. I've never been one to bite my tongue. Like father, like son.
“I run a company,” he said, straightening his tie out of habit. “Not a daycare.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I muttered. “Plus, I don’t know if you forgot but I’ve been talking about moving to Union Heights for over a year.
They have some of the top architect firms in the country.
Why would I change my plans now?” He didn’t respond, just looked out the window.
For a second, it looked like his mind drifted somewhere else entirely before he pulled himself back.
I’d thought we would talk about today being Shiloh's birthday. Maybe, hang out and go down memory lane but he didn’t bring it up so neither did I. Instead, he brought up the only other person we ever talked about.
“Have you talked to your mother?”
“I texted her this morning. She hit me with the thumbs-up emoji.”
He sighed, and I could see the sadness briefly. “I see.”
“How’s she been?” I asked.
“Your mom is one of the strongest people I know.”
Before I could respond, his desk phone rang. He answered and spoke for a few seconds before hanging up.
“I’m needed in a meeting downstairs with the design team.” He gathered his files quickly. “You can stay here if you want. Have Lena order you something to eat.”
He didn’t wait for a response before hurrying out. I sat there alone, slowly swiveling in his expensive chair. I drove two hours over here for nothing.
Just as I was about to get up and leave, my eyes drifted to his computer monitor. Still unlocked. That’s when a small idea crept in.
Thanksgiving weekend was around the corner. Everyone in this building looked like they needed a break weeks ago.
I rolled the chair closer to the desk and cracked my knuckles.
I opened the company-wide email list and typed:
Subject: Early Dismissal Tomorrow
Good afternoon,
In appreciation of everyone’s hard work, the office will be closing at 12 p.m. tomorrow so employees can begin their Thanksgiving holiday weekend early.Enjoy the time with your families.
-Management
I read over it twice, smirking, then hit “send.”
The whoosh of that outgoing email felt like freedom. I knew my dad would be blowing my phone up as soon as he caught wind of it, but it would be worth it.
I locked the screen and made my way out of the office, passing by Lena’s desk again.
She looked from her computer screen up to me, eyebrows practically touching her hairline after reading the email.
She pushed back from her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, but a smile formed.
“You know he’s going to be pissed, right? ”
I shrugged, stuffing my hands into my hoodie pockets. “What’s new?”
Lena laughed, shaking her head. “You know I've always liked you kid. Happy holidays.”
“Happy holidays.” I headed toward the elevator, something in my chest felt a little lighter.
Simone’s note.Telling my dad I wasn’t changing my plans to move to Union Heights.Doing something nice for the people in this building.
Maybe today wasn’t as heavy as it started.
Maybe things really could get lighter.
And maybe—just maybe—someone like Simone was the kind of light I needed more of.