The Promise I Made to My Dying Grandma
When I was 13, my grandmother Daisy taught me that stars weren’t just balls of gas — they were storytellers, just like her. Every evening, we’d sit on her porch with chamomile tea as she pointed out constellations and told me their legends, weaving them with our family history. Those nights sparked my lifelong love of astronomy, but more importantly, they deepened my bond with her.
At 15, I learned she had terminal cancer. The doctors gave her six months. That same night, she handed me a journal with starmaps and stories, labeled “For Justin.” She began recording both family memories and fictional constellations representing her hopes for my future — The Scholar, The Lover, The Father. As she grew weaker, she asked me to help her finish the journal when she no longer could. It was a promise I never broke.
Grandma Daisy passed away under Orion’s watchful sky, as she’d wished. Her final words: “Look for me in Cassiopeia…
