Grammar and Spelling mistakes?

Can someone check this and make sure it sounds good and dosent have any grammar or spelling mistakes...or if there is anything I can put to make it better. Thanks. Peace.








My Dad


The resemblance is obvious all over the bottom half of my face. My father sat beside me at my sister’s wedding reception and everyone kept telling us how much we looked alike. I never would have thought I’d have the chance to meet him much less get to spend so much time with him, but now that I have meet him it feels right it feels like this is how it should have always been.


When I was young my mother would tell me “First God gave me Laura, (my older sister) and then you. Then God gave me a husband and two more little blessings” I didn’t really comprehend what she had meant until I was a little older. I didn’t have the same father as my siblings, finally I had understood but still I was confused. Who then was my father? Where was he? Why hadn’t he been around? I had so many questions and no courage to ask them, besides my mother didn’t like to talk about it. When she did mention him though it would trigger curious excitement inside of me, I wanted to hear as much as she could tell me about him. What was his name, what did he look like, where we the same at all? What I did find out was that he was Hispanic and came from a large family. After that I started checking the box that said “other” on ethnicity because I was half Hispanic and very proud to be so. It made me feel different in a good way. I was different from my siblings and when someone would comment on the fact that I looked nothing like any of them I would smile. No we don’t, I’d think, because I have a different dad.


The day after my cousin’s graduation (when I was seventeen) I received a phone call. I didn’t recognize the name on the caller ID but when I looked at it a strange feeling flooded my stomach. Somehow I had known that something life changing was on the other end, cautiously I answered.


“Hello?” My voice was shaky and weak.


“Hi,” a girl said, “I’m looking for Sandy.”


At first I was confused; no one had called me that since I was little. “Well I’m Sandra,” I said, “Who’s this?”


“Hi Sandra, this is Angela, I guess I’d be your step sister. Your dad told me to call you.”


At this moment I stood up and started walking into the hallway. My mother was beside me and I guess something in my face made her follow me. Who is it? she mouthed to me urgently.


“Your dad wants to meet you.” she said simply like she could snap her fingers and make it happen. I didn’t say anything back to her, I was too shocked. Instead my mother took the phone away from me and demanded to know who was on the other end.


“Well if he wants to meet her, he needs to call her himself.” My mother wailed into the phone before hanging up.


About two minutes later the phone rang. My mother forbade me to follow her as she went outside to talk to my father, the man I’d wanted to meet my whole life whose blood was running through my veins and I wasn’t even allowed to hear what his voice sounded like. I watched her through the living room window as she paced back and fourth across the lawn. It was clear that she was mad and I couldn’t understand why. When she finally came back in the house I begged to know what had been said. All she told me was that my father wanted to meet me, what I had already known. I was overjoyed that he wanted to meet me and I was ready to see him at that very moment.


Three years after that I still hadn’t met him. My stepfather had been enraged at the very idea of it and my mother and I were terrified to upset him. What would happen if I met my biological father, they’d fight, I’d be looked down upon by my siblings, everyone would think I was trying to break up the family? So for years I did nothing, even after I tuned eighteen and my mother gave me his phone number. “You’re an adult now; you can do what you want.” I wanted to meet him more than anything I had ever wanted in my entire life, but I didn’t want to upset anybody.


Throughout those three years I thought about him a lot probably more than I had thought about him all the years before because he had become real to me. Finally I had a name and evidence that my father, my real father was out there somewhere. I was fulfilled in one way because I knew he wanted to meet me and that had been one of the vital questions, but still I hadn’t met him and I was tired of being afraid. What did it really matter if I upset anyone, my mother was getting a divorce, and my siblings could deal with it right? So we talked it over and decided to look him up. We found his mothers address and phone number on the internet (thank goodness she hadn’t moved over the years) and called her about a week before Thanksgiving. They were real, his family, my family, my grandmother and I was getting closer and closer. It took several days and wrong numbers but I finally got his cell phone number.


Still afraid of how my siblGrammar and Spelling mistakes?
if this is an essay then change every ';what's'; to what is.. and every ';it's'; to it is. because those arent suppose to be in formal writing such as essays.Grammar and Spelling mistakes?
';I’d have the chance to meet him much less get to spend so much time with him';





?








Check for commas.
I really don't think that you have any spelling or grammar mistakes. Good luck. answer mine?


http://sg.answers.yahoo.com/question/ind…
Just cut and paste the corrected version I did; minor puncuation and spelling errors , but the story is cut off at the end.....








The resemblance is obvious all over the bottom half of my face. My father sat beside me at my sister’s wedding reception and everyone kept telling us how much we looked alike. I never would have thought I’d have the chance to meet him much less get to spend so much time with him, but now that I have met him it feels right it feels like this is how it should have always been.


When I was young, my mother would tell me: “First God gave me Laura, (my older sister) and then you. Then God gave me a husband and two more little blessings” I didn’t really comprehend what she had meant until I was a little older. I didn’t have the same father as my siblings. Finally I had understood but still I was confused. Who then was my father? Where was he? Why hadn’t he been around? I had so many questions and no courage to ask them; my mother didn’t like to talk about it. When she did mention him though, it would trigger curious excitement inside of me, I wanted to hear as much as she could tell me about him. What was his name, what did he look like, where we the same at all? What I did find out was that he was Hispanic and came from a large family. After that, I started checking the box that said “other” on ethnicity because I was half Hispanic and very proud to be so. It made me feel different in a good way. I was different from my siblings, and when someone would comment on the fact that I looked nothing like any of them, I would smile. No we don’t, I’d think, because I have a different dad.


The day after my cousin’s graduation (when I was seventeen) I received a phone call. I didn’t recognize the name on the caller ID, but when I looked at it a strange feeling flooded my stomach. Somehow, I had known that something life changing was on the other end Cautiously, I answered.


“Hello?” My voice was shaky and weak.


“Hi,” a girl said, “I’m looking for Sandy.”


At first, I was confused; no one had called me that since I was little. “Well, I’m Sandra,” I said, “Who’s this?”


“Hi Sandra, this is Angela, I guess I’d be your step sister. Your dad told me to call you.”


At this moment, I stood up and started walking into the hallway. My mother was beside me and I guess something in my face made her follow me. Who is it? she mouthed to me urgently.


“Your dad wants to meet you.” she said simply, like she could snap her fingers and make it happen. I didn’t say anything back to her; I was too shocked. Instead, my mother took the phone away from me and demanded to know who was on the other end.


“Well if he wants to meet her, he needs to call her himself.” My mother wailed into the phone before hanging up.


About two minutes later, the phone rang. My mother forbade me to follow her as she went outside to talk to my father, the man I’d wanted to meet my whole life, whose blood was running through my veins and I wasn’t even allowed to hear what his voice sounded like. I watched her through the living room window as she paced back and fourth across the lawn. It was clear that she was mad and I couldn’t understand why. When she finally came back in the house, I begged to know what had been said. All she told me was that my father wanted to meet me, something I had already known. I was overjoyed that he wanted to meet me, and I was ready to see him at that very moment.


Three years after that, I still hadn’t met him. My stepfather had been enraged at the very idea of it, and my mother and I were terrified to upset him. What would happen if I met my biological father, they’d fight, I’d be looked down upon by my siblings, everyone would think I was trying to break up the family? So for years I did nothing, even after I turned eighteen and my mother gave me his phone number. “You’re an adult now; you can do what you want.” I wanted to meet him more than anything I had ever wanted in my entire life, but I didn’t want to upset anybody.


Throughout those three years I thought about him a lot probably more than I had thought about him all the years before because he had become real to me. Finally I had a name and evidence that my father, my real father was out there somewhere. I was fulfilled in one way because I knew he wanted to meet me and that had been one of the vital questions, but still I hadn’t met him and I was tired of being afraid. What did it really matter if I upset anyone, my mother was getting a divorce, and my siblings could deal with it right? So we talked it over and decided to look him up. We found his mother's address and phone number on the internet (thank goodness she hadn’t moved over the years) and called her about a week before Thanksgiving. They were real, his family, my family, my grandmother and I was getting closer and closer. It took several days and wrong numbers but I finally got his cell phone number.


Still afraid of how my sibl