Time is sometimes merciless, even if love and hope are everlasting

I had a hankering for a good steak, so I messaged my cousin “Chef D” that June at 2:48 p.m.

“Yo, Chef D, where’s a good reasonable place for a steak dinner in downtown Chicago?”

A few minutes later, Darius messaged me back: “Why is money a deciding factor — you interviewed Princess Diana!”

“LOL, yeah,” I responded. “But I ain’t got her money. … I didn’t say cheap.”

Darius replied: “Just about any place you dine at downtown will carry some sort of steak! But the quality won’t be choice meat. I personally like RPM steakhouse! It’s not crazy expensive, but far from cheap.

“It’s downtown. But everyone dresses business casual. … Sorry for using ‘but’ at the beginning of that previous sentence — I know that was probably killing you!” Darius wrote jokingly, acknowledging my vocation as a writer and professor.

“Lol, man, you funny. … RPM — as in Real Pricey Meat?”

“You got it, cousin …” Darius fired back as I laughed.

Darius. My little cousin. A handsome, bearded brown-skinned brother with the world at his fingertips and culinary passion coursing through his veins, he is my first cousin Donna’s eldest son.

In our family, the word “cousin” is a misnomer. Insufficient in conveying the closeness of 15 girls and boys who were the offspring of George and Florence Hagler’s five daughters and one son.

God, family, love is our family’s mantra.

My cousin Donna is Darius’ mother. We grew up together, went to the family church Sunday after Sunday together. Prayed at Aunt Mary’s — our babysitter — together before venturing beyond her front door on school-day mornings out into the world. We drank Aunt Mary’s syrupy sweet Kool-Aid, cried together, played together.

Donna and my sister Net and my wife then were pregnant together — 1982. Darius was born first — Sept. 13. Then my eldest daughter Rasheena on Oct. 10. Then my sister’s son Stanley on Oct 16.

Darius … Darius Sconiers, 35. He was quiet as a little boy, smiley with big brown eyes, funny, adorable. He sang in the children’s choir and played bass guitar. He was respectful, dapper — even as a kid. He vowed someday to be famous.

A graduate of Proviso East High School, Darius developed a love for cooking. Whether it was inspired by his great-grandmother’s peach cobbler, by his grandmother’s 7Up cake, by his dad Ronnie’s tantalizing lasagna or some other family culinary creation, I can’t say. But Darius was a natural.

He studied culinary arts at Triton College, honed his craft at family events and in some of the city’s finest restaurants, following his dream.

” … You still work at Lawry’s?” I messaged again.

“No, I left there like three or four years ago,” Darius wrote back. “I was recently the sous chef at Chicago Cut Steakhouse downtown. … I do freelance work at this 5-star French joint Les Nomades. … I have a couple places interested in me, just waiting for them to get back.”

(Not long after our conversation he began working at Formento’s in the West Loop.)

“You must be a bad dude in the kitchen, man,” I responded proudly.

“To the common man, yes,” Darius wrote back. ” … Every time I think I can throw down, I realize I know very little. I’m just getting started, but give me a minute.”

Except time is sometimes merciless and circumstance unforgiving — even if love and hope everlasting.

About 4:20 p.m., on Jan. 27, Darius sat in his Cadillac sedan at a stoplight at Congress Parkway and Wells Street. A vehicle plowed into his car, killing him, devastating us, breaking our hearts.

Leaving me with memories, old messages and endless tears for my cousin Chef D.

A wake for Darius Sconiers will be held at 10 a.m. Monday at True Vine Church of God in Christ, 400 23rd Ave., Bellwood, Ill. Services will follow at 10:30 a.m.

Email: Author@johnwfountain.com.

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