Yeserday was my birthday.
As hard as it is with Mark still not home, I still have a wonderful day.
Wonderful messages from friends and family, calls from my mother, mum and dad Reel and of course from Mark.
Yesterday, I also recieved an answer to prayer.
In the wee hours of yesterday morning, G-d was dealing with my mother.
So after she sang Happy Birthday to me, she told me about my father.
My father, Louis Shackeford, was a very handsome New York cabdriver. They were from two different worlds and this was the 1950s.
My mother's first husband, Henry didn't die (as I had been told by others) but the marriage just didn't work out..
This explains so much, in my life: why my mother was so angry for so many years and how she finally came to peacce.
I understand more about my firey personality; you can't be a New York cabdriver and be a wimp, not can you?. Mummy says i have the same shade of brown eyes.
I still hope one day (if he is still alive) to meet my father. But knowing more about him, helps me know more about myself.
It is hard having my beloved away. Each day that passes means he shall be hope soon. I just need to hold on.
These pictures are from my surprise birthday three years ago. I made this album yesterday, relieving the joy and foun of that evening.