For most of my life, I believed I understood my family’s story. I grew up thinking my biological mother had left when I was an infant, unable or unwilling to raise me, while kind relatives and close family friends stepped in to offer support whenever they could.
One woman, in particular, was always there.
She attended birthdays, graduations, and holiday gatherings. She never tried to take center stage, but she quietly celebrated every milestone and often found thoughtful ways to help when my family needed it most.
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