Essence Magazine:
I went to work six hours after my mother died.
I was 28 at the time, knocking on 30’s door and was hell bent on meeting my professional goals according to the timeline I’d set in my teens. Work was a refuge. It was the one constant I could control, so when the biggest tragedy of my life happened, I’d considered my office the soft place I needed to land in.
Now 33, I
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