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Some stories don’t make sense until you zoom out. Some moments whisper their truth only after the dust has settled.
Yesterday was one of those days.
Shayna’s 10th angelversary is just over a month away. Ten years. A full decade of breathing without her. Loving her from a distance I can’t touch. The weight of that milestone has been settling on my chest lately, bringing with it a familiar ache, sharp and quiet.
A couple of weeks ago, I found Shayna’s old iPhone in the basement. It felt like stumbling on a sacred artifact, sealed in grief. But it was locked, and in true Apple fashion, that meant the contents were inaccessible. No password, no access. I assumed those memories were locked away for good.
And then yesterday happened.
The Glitch That Became a Gift
My computer—an old, moody machine—started acting up again. It does this occasionally: works perfectly for weeks, then suddenly malfunctions like it’s channeling Mercury in retrograde. I tried reinstalling the OS multiple times, each attempt ending with a different flavor of failure. Out of frustration, I finally surrendered to the idea: it was time for a new computer. Shayna often communicates with me through electronics— my iPhone, and yes— computer glitches.
But here's the catch—I don’t delete anything. My life is archived in layers of digital sediment. To replace this machine, I’d need the biggest internal drive Apple offers, which not only is expensive, but also nearly impossible to find in stock. It would take at least two weeks to get one from Apple. It was finally time to clean up and properly archive old stuff.
In the middle of this mess, I remembered I had a podcast interview scheduled that afternoon with Daniel Drasin. If you know Calling Earth, you know how significant Daniel is in the afterlife research space. His documentary explores Instrumental TransCommunication—how those in spirit use electronics to communicate. Given the chaos, I seriously considered canceling the interview. But I didn’t. I just kept pushing through. Finally, right before the interview, the computer came back to life, and we did the interview.
Unearthing Shayna’s Digital Voice
After the interview, desperately trying to free up space, I decided to finally get serious about organizing my files. I couldn’t wait two weeks for a new computer. I needed at least get the disk size manageable so I could pick one up today.
I used Clean My Mac, a tool that identifies junk files you can safely delete. Clean My Mac identified backup files of every Apple device anyone in my family has ever had.
I had no idea these files were on my computer. As I scrolled through its recommendations, something unusual caught my eye: a file marked as a backup of Shayna’s phone from July 2015—the month after she passed.
The file name was gibberish. Encrypted. Something like F28bxe238txtl.bkp. Nothing to indicate what it held. But Clean My Mac recognized it and presented it to me as clear as day: Backup of Shayna's 5C iPhone.
My heart caught in my throat.
I searched for a way to extract its contents—without needing the original phone or password. Apple’s security is notoriously tight. I could possibly retrieve it. But I’d need to install on a phone and then convince Apple to let me in since I have no idea of Shayna’s password.
Thanks to AI, I found software that could parse the backup and display the files—texts, photos, videos—on my Mac. Fifty dollars later, I held in my hands what I thought was gone forever.
And suddenly… there she was.
Shayna’s phone, just as it was in July 2015. Frozen in time.
I read through the messages her friends sent when they learned she had passed. Their shock, their heartbreak, their disbelief. I saw Tywana’s texts from that morning: reminders to get out of bed, to come downstairs. Shayna had Girl Scouts that day.
There were no signs she knew she was going to pass. She was happy. It was just a normal day.
I sat at my desk and bawled—harder than I have in years. That deep, heaving kind of cry that rips you open and somehow stitches something back together.
The Second Layer: A Living Legacy
As if that weren’t enough, just a few hours later, I stood in Shayna’s old gym—the very place where she played basketball, volleyball, and received her own awards in 9th grade.
I was there to present the annual Shayna Smith Memorial Scholarship.
This year, we selected two recipients—a boy and a girl. The girl played volleyball, like Shayna. In her application essay, she referenced the motto “Play for Shay,” which still lives on nearly ten years later. The girls still wear a bracelet with that motto. Coach Kornau, Shayna’s volleyball coach, continued to share Shayna’s story with her players. These students, seven years younger than Shayna, knew exactly who she was—not as a memory but as a legacy.
Shayna never attended the main high school building. She passed the summer after 9th grade. But there I was, speaking her name in the gym where she shone—proof that love and impact don’t care about age or time. I reminded everyone of the impact Shayna had at Lakota in just her two short years there. I encouraged the scholarship recipients to not just see the award as financial aid, but to use Shayna as an inspiration for how they live, just as they had pledged in their applications.
A Code Waiting to Be Cracked
By the grace of digital resurrection, my computer came back to life just in time for the interview with Daniel Drasin.
As we wrapped, Daniel read a single chapter from his book about codes—how they conceal deeper meanings beneath the surface. How a code is something that must be unlocked to reveal its truth.
After the scholarship ceremony, it hit me like a wave: That’s what happened.
Those encrypted file names—those indecipherable strings—were codes hiding Shayna’s voice, her images, her texts. For nearly ten years they sat buried in my machine. Meaningless junk, unless you knew how to interpret them. Unless you were given the tools to decode them.
If my computer hadn’t crashed…If I hadn’t run Clean My Mac…If I hadn’t needed to declutter in a hurry…If I hadn’t interviewed Daniel that very day…
I would’ve missed it.
But Spirit doesn’t let us miss what we’re meant to receive.
The Whisper Beneath the Noise
Some days are more than just days.
Yesterday was one of those days where everything seems random, but in hindsight, every thread was perfectly placed. Shayna showed up—in code, in the gym, in the hearts of students too young to know her but old enough to carry her light.
What began as technical chaos became a divine orchestration.
A reminder that our loved ones in spirit don’t leave. They just speak in different ways. Through memories. Through electricity. Through files you almost deleted.
Through code.
If you’ve ever doubted that love transcends space and time, let this be your sign: The connection never breaks. The messages never stop. You just have to learn how to listen—and how to look.
p.s.- three weeks later, my computer is running fine. No more glitches. And, we received this from one of the scholarship recipients, an outstanding young man.
5/21/25
Dear Smith family,
I am writing to express my deepest gratitude for selecting me as a recipient of the Shayna Smith Scholarship. I was overwhelmed when you made the announcement, and I wanted to reach out and convey my gratitude.
I am truly honored to be selected for this scholarship. When you spoke about Shayna at the ceremony, it explained to me even more how great of a person she really was. I appreciate how many people considered her their closest friend. And I really admire how she was comfortable relating to all kinds of people with different backgrounds and beliefs, which is something I work really hard at, too. I am truly honored to be selected for this scholarship. I remember applying for this scholarship and what I wrote about was truly personal to me. It made me reflect on my impact on other people, instead of just thinking about myself. The things that Shayna stood for were inspiring to me, and to hear about how she affected her friends around her was also very special. Shayna and I are not the same person, but I believe we had strong similarities in our calling to stand up for what's right. Thank you for selecting me as the recipient of the Shayna Smith Scholarship, and I will do my best to carry on her legacy. I realize that I am now part of a community of people who remember her and who are motivated because of Shayna to live an honorable, good life.
I will be attending The Ohio State University this fall. I have been accepted into the College of Engineering and I will be studying Biomedical Engineering. Your support through this scholarship has really helped me get started next year. I know that I will worry less about my finances and I will therefore be able to give more of my full energy towards being a successful student. This scholarship not only eases the financial burden of continuing my education but also motivates me to push even harder. Thank you again for creating this scholarship and for selecting me. I know this means that I am even more responsible to make a productive impact with what others have given me, and I take that responsibility very seriously.
Sincerely,(signature)
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