One evening, Ellie gave me a crayon drawing of our home, showing all the children, Clara, and me. Above my figure, in simple letters, she wrote: “Nana.” No qualifiers, no distance—just love. It was the moment I truly understood that family isn’t only about blood. It’s about who shows up, who listens, who stays through everything.
Jamal began calling me simply to chat, sharing his school day or a funny story. “I know you weren’t there when I was little,” he said one night, “but I’m glad you’re here now.”
