I feel like I'm betraying my parents by selling their house.

A few true things. The house held your parents' lives; it was never the container of them, and selling it doesn't undo a single Sunday dinner that happened inside. The memories move with you. And your parents' hope was never that the house would become a weight their children carried out of guilt — a home kept as a museum nobody can afford to visit honors no one. Most households tell me the same thing a few months after closing: the grief stayed, the dread lifted, and they could finally remember the house instead of managing it.

There's no clock on this, and nobody should hand you one. When you're ready — even if ready is a year away — just call. The first conversation is only a conversation.