Three Generations of chaos, trauma, but most importantly love. Like most all parents, I practically worship the ground my two beautiful big babies walk upon. Back when I was growing up the same could not be said for my brother and I. We were abused in every way one possibly could be abused except sexually. As I look at these pictures of my children who adore my parents (I’ve chosen to let them have their good memories of them without haunting them with mine) and I see how old and feeble my parents are becoming, somewhere along the way I lost my rage and need for revenge against them. Yes what happened all of those years ago was horrific and my brother and I still don’t know how we made it through adolescence in one piece, but I’ve lost the taste for that bloodlust to “get back at them.” It confuses me greatly but that’s how I now feel. At this point I’m just happy that three generations, well actually four with our newest add my gorgeous grandson are still alive to take these kinds of pics.