I had amazing parents! Both wise and loved me dearly. During my younger years, I knew I was loved but I also knew that I was different from my adoptive parents – different talents, different looks. As much as this sometimes annoys me, my adoptive parents are my parents. They've raised me, loved me, held my hand, wiped my tears and been there to talk to regardless of the situation. They came to my all my school and sports events. They've helped me through painful times and celebrated with me. Still, like most adoptees at some point, I felt a void in not knowing where I came from. I had long known that I was adopted as a toddler and that my birth mother had died in a car accident several years after I was born, however, there has never been a word mentioned about my birth father, apart from the fact that his name was General Charles Murphy. About two days ago, this changed….
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“Skylar, hurry up. You are going to be late for school”.
“I’ll just be a few more minutes Mum.” I replied as I was searching for the last product needed to complete my look. Mascara! That’s what I’m missing. I walked over to my parent’s master suite and headed to the bathroom. I looked in every draw of the vanity in search of the mascara. Rummaging through the last draw I found it, but the mascara
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Although there were many soldiers found dead, none of the ones that were listed in the mission were found missing except for one. It just so happens that General Murphy had escaped the bombing and was rescued by people from a nearby town. With severe injuries, he was patched up by the local healer. He survived but had lost half of his right leg and a scar will forever be upon his right cheek caused by a deep brutal cut. Since there was no way to contact the Australian military, seen as it was forbidden to do so by the Iraq community, it took 8 years for Charles Murphy to be found and a year and a half later, he was