Tami Parks
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Great-Grandpa John

I was nearly 40 years old when I learned the truth that my beloved Great-Grandpa John and I were not actually related by blood. Blood may be thicker than water, but love is greater than blood. A man who showed up at all my piano recitals, tucked 20-dollar bills into birthday cards with “John”—the only word he could write—scribbled on them, and gruffly said “me too” when I ended a phone conversation with “I love you”—he was Great-Grandpa to me.

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