For the first time in a long time, life came at me three days in a row and I didn't spiral. Then came a snake in my courtyard, a red shirt with Lauren's date on it, and a barred owl feather in the same bush the next morning. Maybe healing doesn't arrive all at once. Maybe it arrives one quiet reminder at a time.

In the attorney's office, I felt three women standing behind my chair — my grandmothers and my best friend. And when I got to my car, something happened that I still can't fully explain.

After Nonny's funeral, I found a box in her closet — one I had given her years before. What was waiting inside it made me burst into tears. And I believe she meant for me to find it.

A medium said a name I had never heard in my life: Inez Lyons. A lion — strong and protective. It took me years to learn who she was. It took even longer to understand why she came.

One weekend away, and everything felt possible again — the laughter, the closeness, even a long-awaited apology. I told myself I could live with what I was still carrying. I was wrong.

The warning was never hidden. It played out in every friendship she discarded and every confidence she spent. I watched it happen again and again — and still believed I'd be exempt.

I called it keeping the peace. I called it being the fun one. For years, I wore a mask so well I fooled even myself — until the universe started pulling everything to the surface at once.

I whispered a question into the quiet: "Nonny, if you met her before I did... send me a sign." The next morning, something was waiting for me in the garage.