Page 3 of The Game
“You will share an office with Samantha, working in media relations. She’s out right now, but you’ll get to meet her on Monday.”
The office space is gorgeous.
It is designed for two people, featuring a long wooden desk with a central drawer for tidy storage. Naturallight streams in through large windows, offering a stunning view of Chicago.
The space feels cozy and welcoming, decorated with plants, wood accents, and matching teal sculptural lamps on the desks.
The other side of the room features a seating area with a soft beige sofa and a glass table in front.
Behind the sofa stands a large bookcase filled with files, books, and even some trophies.
I can see myself working long hours in this office. It will be nice to share the space with Samantha.
The NHL remains very male-dominated, so having a woman to confide in feels good.
We finish our brief tour of the office before I leave, thanking Henry for the meeting.
When I depart the stadium, I call my dad and tell him all about the meeting with Henry and the beautiful office space where I’ll be working.
“I’ll come visit you once you’re all settled. I’m so proud of you, Sarah, and I know Mom is too.”
I feel my eyes start to prickle at the mention of my mom. Whenever a big change happens in my life, I miss her a little extra, wanting to share these moments with her.
She was working in the local hospital back home, caring for the sick and vulnerable, when she suddenly became one of them.
When my mom first got diagnosed with cancer, we couldn’t believe it.
She’d always been a vibrant, strong woman, and then out of thin air, the disease appeared and tainted our whole life in the worst way.
I’ve never felt so lost and hopeless as when my parents sat me down and told me the bad news.
Part of me wanted to think they were joking, but deep down I knew they would never make light of something like that.
After my mom received her diagnosis, we stayed hopeful, believing the treatment would work and she’d have more time.
Sadly, after about a year and a half, she lost her battle with cancer, leaving my dad and me alone.
The first year was the hardest.
I kept thinking I’d call her and tell her about my day, only to realize she wasn’t there to pick up the phone.
Instead, I started visiting the cemetery and talking to her there, feeling connected to her in the only way I could.
My dad would come with me whenever I asked him.
Over the years, I’ve learned to live with the grief, always having her with me in my heart. I’ve also decided I’llalways try to live my life to the fullest, making the most of every opportunity.
That’s also why I chose to pursue sports journalism: I knew it would be challenging at times, but I am determined to make my dreams come true and make my mom proud.
Losing your mom at fifteen also meant growing up and facing life’s challenges head-on.
I’ve become resilient and strong, and I don’t let people mess with the people I care about or me.
“Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll come home this weekend and visit the cemetery to tell her all about the exciting times in my life.”
My dad lives back in Tinley Park, where I grew up, about a forty-minute drive outside of Chicago.
“I’ll make our favourite meal,” Dad says, making my heart soften.
