My Stepfather Raised Five Children Who Weren’t His — After the Funeral, We Each Received a Letter Never Intended for the Others to Read

“I hated him for so long.”

Mara opened one of the photo albums. There we were in matching Christmas pajamas Thomas bought on clearance every year and pretended were designer. Noah missing his front teeth. Susan with crooked bangs she cut herself using craft scissors and terrible judgment. Me with frosting smeared across my face and my arm wrapped around Thomas’s neck.

“Look at his hair,” Mara said through tears. “Why did he part it like that?”

Michael snorted. “Because he thought gel was a lifestyle.”

Even Susan smiled.