Eventually, Dad and his wife realized they preferred a place of their own, something modern and fully theirs. They moved out on good terms, and we helped them settle into their new home. When the house was quiet again, I stood in the hallway where the projector still cast its soft, drifting stars. It reminded me that sometimes the past doesn’t haunt us—it guides us. My grandma had left me the house not as a burden, but as a foundation. And in honoring it, I discovered my own voice, my own strength, and a way forward that felt true not just to me, but to the love she left behind.
