I Paid My Father $250 in Rent Every Month for Five Years. After His Funeral, His Best Friend Gave Me a Key and a Box.

I began writing a melody for Mom’s unfinished lyrics.

I didn’t try to make it sound like Northline.

I wasn’t interested in becoming Dad’s replacement.

I wanted to make something that reflected the family we had been and the person I was becoming.

By midnight, I had a chorus.

It was rough, but I could hear where it wanted to go.