Story 1:
n junior year of high school, my dad got remarried to the woman he’d cheated on my mom with several years prior. As an angsty teenager, I was none too thrilled with his new marriage and was honestly pretty cold towards her whenever we saw each other. A year later, my dad was taking me to the airport on my way to college, and my stepmom took off work to meet us there and send me off with a care package.
She hugged me and told me that she was proud of me, and when she stepped back, I saw that she had tears in her eyes. It was at that moment that I realized that she wasn’t a bad person,
even if she (and my dad) had done some bad things in the past. Our relationship improved dramatically after that,
and now she’s like a second mother to me.
Story 2:
When I was 8 years old, my mom got married for the second time. I was very hostile toward my stepfather. He was a nice man, but the very thought of him taking Dad’s place drove me crazy.
Mom was torn between us. It wasn’t until I was 10 when everything changed. It happened when he came to school to defend me from the teacher.
I started ignoring him less often and agreed to go for walks together a couple of times. That same year, on his birthday, I made him a present for the first time: I gave him an envelope with a card where I wrote, “Will you adopt me?”
It was the first time I saw a grown man crying while tucked into the shoulder of a little girl. A month later, he became my dad, and after that my daddy.
Story 3:
I have always told my children, “Just because I’m not your father doesn’t make you any less my children.” I was never able to have offspring of my own, but my grandpa grew up in an orphanage. He always said the best part of a family has nothing to do with blood. © BB64 / Reddit
Story 4:
Story 5:
I wasn’t thrilled when my mom remarried and my stepdad moved in. He tried to connect with me, but I stayed distant.
That year, I’d been saving up to buy tickets to a big game my friends and I wanted to go to, but they sold out before I could get them. I was crushed and assumed no one in the house cared. Then, the day before the game, my stepdad handed me an envelope.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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