With help from my attorney, the remaining funds were moved into a more secure managed account with strict oversight.
I rented a small studio apartment near the hospital, and although it was modest, it was entirely mine.
Six months later, I began my graduate program, using the funds exactly as my aunt had intended.
People sometimes ask if I ever reconciled with my family, and my answer has never changed.
No, because what ended us was not the money, but the certainty in their voices when they believed I had nothing left to give.
They thought they had emptied my account, but what they actually emptied was any place they still held in my life.
