Four days ago my beloved grandmother died, and I thought that was the deepest pain I'd ever felt in my 28 years.
My grandmother has spoiled me, my mother always said so, and I guess she was right. Or maybe she was just a little jealous of how much I loved her.
I thought I knew who I was. I had a loving family, a lovely husband and a three-year-old boy with another on the way. but I was wrong.
After the funeral, my father gave me my grandmother's jewelry box, telling me it had been her last wish that I have it.
My family is not rich, I wasn't expecting to find the crown jewels inside or anything that would change my life.
I opened the box when I got home. She had left me her and my grandpa's wedding rings, some strands of faux pearls, a locket with her parent's pictures and some pretty dress rings, and earrings.
At the bottom of the box, she had a sheaf of love letters from my grandfather and a photo of a young couple with a baby.
The couple I recognized as my aunt and her husband who had died in a car accident before I was born. I was named after her, in her memory.
The funny thing, I thought, was that the baby they were cuddling looked just like me. How could that be? I had been hearing the story of their death all my life.
It always started: "Before you were born..."
Before I was born, that pretty girl and her husband died tragically in a car accident. Before I was born. I turned over the photo, and it was written in my gran's hand. "Summer 1990. Claire's last photo with her beloved parents."
That's me, I'm Claire, and those were my PARENTS: My parents are dead. The man I've called Dad is my uncle, the woman I love as a mother isn't.
I don't know what to do.l I look at my "parents" and see how much they love me, and care for my husband and my boy. I want to know why they didn't tell me, why did they lie?
Why? I don't understand why they lied, and I haven't the courage to tell them I know.
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