Because of my skin, I’ve been able to help others Skipping home from school, I was so happy. Soon I’d see my dad Giuseppe, 46, in his hometown, Milazzo, Sicily.
He and my mum Jackie, now 58, split when I was 3, but I’d see him as much as possible.
A typical Italian, dark-haired, charismatic, fun and loving, my dad meant the world to me.
But, arriving home with my best friend Robyn, my mum was sitting in the living room.
She looked so sad.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘It’s your dad,’ Mum said.
I could hardly breathe as she explained that my beautiful dad, so full of life, had died in a motorbike accident.
Just 13, my world stopped.
At the end of August 2004, my brother Marco and…
