Family has nothing to do with blood, but everything to do with love. I grew up in a family so big we lost count of how many of us there were. I remember times at Thanksgiving that our house was so packed that some of us stood around the table and even outside eating. If you asked my mom how many kids she has, she would tell you around 50, last time she counted. None of that is blood-related kids, but every one of them means just as much as the four children she gave birth to. See the "family" I grew up with was much different than yours. I grew up with more brothers and sisters than you could ever imagine and I wouldn't change it for the world. You see my family and I grew up far from my blood family so all we had was our close friends here and, to be honest, they were more family than my blood ever had been.
Most of my blood family refuses to recognize them as my family when I call them that. For example, when my non-blood grandfather, the only grandfather I ever really knew mind you, passed away and my sister had to rush home from the army, my blood family actually went off on her about it because he wasn't our "real" grandfather. Upset didn't begin to cover how I felt or even how my sister felt, who was the one it was pointed at. You see all our family was miles and miles away; the people in this town helped our mom raise us so, yes, they were our family.
Sure, I have a grandmother in Maine and sure I "had" a grandpa, but I didn’t know anything about them. I rarely spoke to them or let alone saw them, so the people here gave me and my family something back — a family, true family. I know with most people you have those special friends that you've known forever that you just refer to as your brother or sister. You see, in my case, I had a lot of those because they were all I had. Sure I had my mom and my brother and my two sisters, but that’s all any of us had here in this town. So, for my three best friends in the whole world to become my family meant the world to me. We all were so close that when they came over they didn't refer to my mother as Ma'am or Ms. Harrington. They just called her mom and my mom called them her sons, because she loved them like her own. You see, we all were one big family. It wasn't just about being friends and knowing them for years, it was the fact that we knew everything about each other. We were there when our own blood wasn't there. Our parents were all close, for the most part. Heck, a lot of them were all single parents, so in a way they were all co-parenting together. We had all adopted each other into one another's family and I don't see what in the world is wrong with that, but for some reason my "blood" can't accept that fact that they are family to me.
Family isn't about who's blood runs through your veins, it's about who's there to pull you up when you fall, who's there to hold your hand when it's getting hard, who is there when you need them the most. Family isn't about the blood you share, it's about being there for each other and loving each other. I don't understand how someone can be so negative about relationships like this, because honestly how is this any different then adoptive families? They aren't blood, but guess what? They are still family to each other. Explain to me why it's so hard to understand that family isn't about blood at all, it's about the relationship you have with each other and the love you share.