My best relationship was with my birth maternal grandfather. He was like my equivalent to an Uncle Iroh; cool, accomplished, wise, patient, and caring. If there was anything that would improve any negative day I was experiencing, it could be found from him. I don’t remember a single negative experience from him.

He had one of those rare unisex names, and I always used to feel awkward that my adoptive mother (who was also his adoptive sister via their own mother my “birth” maternal great grandmother, err, his adoptive mother and my adoptive mother’s birth mother, not sure how to label that) took advantage of that and named me after him in the renaming process despite being his granddaughter, but after a childhood spent with him, not a single part of me questions that choice. I currently reside in his old home, where occasionally I make him breakfast forgetting he is gone and proceed to have a literal toast to him and eat it in his name upon correcting myself. That’s how much of an impact he had.

My adoptive mother, second-oldest birth sibling, BF, and two friends I made who were the children of family friends of my mother also serve as honorable mentions.