“That’s what you raised.”
That got the smallest laugh out of her, and for a few seconds, she looked more like herself. I bent down and kissed her forehead before taking the seat beside her.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Uncle Henry standing over me.
He looked exhausted. The last few days had taken a toll on him. His eyes were bloodshot, and the man who always seemed so steady looked like he was holding himself together by a thread
He didn’t say anything right away.
Instead, he pulled me up into a hug.
I hugged him back just as tightly.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done,” he said quietly after pulling away. “You’ve been holding this family together.”
I shook my head.
“We’re family. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”
He nodded, but his eyes drifted toward Aunt Denise.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without my boy.” The pain in his voice tugged at a nigga’s heart.
I looked toward the casket sitting at the front of the church before looking back at him.
“We’re gonna find out who did this.”
His jaw clenched.
“I know you will.”
He reached over and straightened my tie, something he’d done since I was a teenager whenever he thought I looked too rushed to notice it myself.
“You still can’t tie this thing right,” he muttered.
I let out a laugh as I told him, “I tied it.”
“Barely.” For the first time all morning, the corner of his mouth twitched. “You know Sam would’ve talked shit about it.”
“He would’ve said I looked like I borrowed it.”
Uncle Henry let out a soft chuckle before the smile disappeared.
“I’d trade every suit I own just to hear him talking again.”
Neither one of us said anything after that.
There wasn’t anything left to say.
He squeezed my shoulder one last time before walking over to Aunt Denise. The second he sat beside her, she leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her without saying a word.
Watching the two of them together made my chest tighten. Losing a child was every parent’s worst nightmare.
Mace sat a few seats down from us. He hadn’t said much since we walked into the church, and every time I looked his way, his attention was on the casket. People came over to speak to him, and he responded when he had to, but something about him still wasn’t right. I’d known that nigga long enough to know when he was holding something in, but today wasn’t the day to press him about it. Sam had been around us for years,and everybody sitting in that front row had lost somebody they loved.
The church continued filling up until there wasn’t an empty seat left. I recognized most of the faces, while others I had probably seen once or twice through Sam. Everybody had a story about him. Everybody had something they were going to miss. I sat here listening as one person after another talked about how funny he was, how loyal he was and how he always showed up when somebody needed him.
That was Sam.