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“Promise me, sweet pea—one year after I’m gone, clean my photo on my headstone. Just you,” Grandma Patty whispered. A year later, I kept my promise, bringing cleaning tools to her grave. Behind the photo frame, I found a hidden note that changed everything.
The note led me to the woods, where we’d once left “fairy mail.” There, I unearthed a copper box with her sapphire ring and a letter. Grandma revealed a secret: my mother had been adopted. “Love isn’t about blood; it’s about choice,” she wrote, assuring me that every moment we’d shared was real.
Through tears, I realized her love transcended biology. Grandma’s legacy lives on—a reminder that family is something we choose, every day.
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