silent. Let him speak. His eulogy was nice but distant. Then, something happened. A hospice nurse handed him a letter Mom had written. He read it aloud: “To my children, Mark and Emily. Yes, both of you. Blood makes children related. Love makes you mine.” He broke down. Then he looked at me and said,
“Please. Come speak.” I read the words Mom and I wrote together. I told everyone who she truly was — a mother who built her family through love. After the service, Mark apologized. Deeply. Maybe we’ll heal, maybe we won’t. But I know one thing: I didn’t need his approval to be her daughter. She already made that clear — with her heart.