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He never missed a parent meeting. Never forgot a birthday. Never once reminded me that we weren’t related by blood.
The funeral was formal and restrained, filled with people who spoke about him in careful, polite phrases. They described his career, his reputation, his accomplishments. It all sounded accurate, but incomplete, like a list that left out the most important parts.
I stood near the back, holding myself together, replaying the memories no one else in that room seemed to know. Fishing trips where neither of us caught anything worth bragging about.
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