Tara Coleman
I didn’t know what I was thinking, or maybe I had too much hope in him that I thought he was changed; he was just the same all over again. I had a hard time explaining to my son the whereabouts of his father and the fact that Mark was his father and not his uncle, as he had always referred to him.
“So, Uncle Mark is my father? The man you said you had some misunderstandings before you left New York?”
"Yes, honey, I just didn’t know how to break it to you considering you are still young and you wouldn’t understand what transpired between us.”
“Did he hurt you? Is that why you guys are no longer together?” He innocently asked, and I shrugged. I thought maybe it was time for him to know the truth—the time for him to understand that his father was in fact alive and doing well
