As I've mentioned before, my mother died before I turned two, so when my father decided to remarry, it meant bringing me into another family's life. And while my grandmother reported some initial reluctance to support my mother's marriage to a man with a young son, I'd like to believe she quickly relented when she realized how charming I was!
In all seriousness, my grandmother always reminded me that I was her first love. I remember that in the house she and my grandfather lived in on Long Island when I was younger, there was a photo collage of me along with the poem:
Not flesh of my fleshHappy birthday, Grandma! I love you with all of my heart and thank you for all of the love and support you've given me through the years.
Not bone of my bone
But still miraculously my own
Never forget for a single minute
You didn't grow under my heart but in it