Some of you already know the story, but for those who don’t . . . In October 2013, two years after my father passed away, I found out that the man who I’d always called, “Dad” was not my biological father.  My biological father was a man who my dad had been close friends with for many years; in fact, our families lived in the same neighborhood and spent a great deal of time at each other’s homes.  Apparently, my dad could not father children, so he and my mom had adopted my older brother and sister before I came along.  They always told me I was a miracle . . . that they thought they could not conceive,…