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We look over all the people who showed up at Kyle’s funeral, our thoughts a jumbled mess. To a very large degree, most of these people knew Kyle as little as we did, and maybe less so. We know enough about him to not mourn his passing. If we’re mourning anything, it’s our chance to learn a little more about him, good or bad; he was our biological father, and only a single person in the whole world will ever get that honor. Not that this title is all that special. What really matters is the person you call ‘Dad,’ and for us, that person lives in Queens. That person may not be our flesh and blood, but he’s a million times more of a real father than Kyle could have ever been. He and Mom, our adoptive mom, are the best parents we could’ve wished for. Our longing for knowledge about our bio
