The first thing I remember is my dad. I couldn't have been older than 2 or 3 years old. I remember looking up at him and him telling me he loved me. My dad was my whole world. He took care of my sister and I and he always reminded us that he loved us.
My dad was a very old man, I believe he was in his mid 60's when I was born. But that didn't matter to me. He was the best dad in my mind, and I always knew I could count on him. He was my protector, my provider,and my hero.
I remember my little sister. She was almost two years younger than me. She loved to try and torture me by kicking me while she was in her high chair.
I remember my Nana. She was one year younger than my dad, which is strange. Yes, I am well aware of this fact. She was so kind to me and my sister. She loved us. We were her everything. She wanted to give us the world.
The person I don't remember during these times was my mom. She always seems to be absent from every good memory I have. I've come to terms with the fact that there were no happy memories with her.
My dad was an immigrant from Germany and worked overseas for different militaries, (which ever ones would pay him the most) so he wasn't always home. Home was Hell without my dad.
Mom would get angry over little things and let all Hell loose. I remember accidentally throwing a bottle cap at her and having to hide under a bed in the guest room all day in fear. She was a mean and violent woman. I would hope and pray every night that I would never turn out to be like her. My poor sister always got the worst of my mom's anger, although to this day I can't figure out why. She would break my sister's toes as punishment for the pettiest of things.
My sister and I were shamed for our looks our whole childhood. Mom would tell us we were over weight and ugly. (She was one to talk about our weight, given that she was at least 350 lbs, on top of the fact that we were both extremely small)
No one has ever told my dad and my Nana didn't really seem to take notice. (There's a reason for this, but that will come later.) I grew up figuring this was normal and this was how everyone talked to their kids.
When I was 6, my little brother was born. He was the cutest little thing I had ever seen. I loved him so much. I wanted to do everything in the world to protect him. I wanted to give him all the love in the world and make sure he only had the absolute best.
I realize this first chapter is slightly mixed up and hard to follow, but most of my memories up until I was about 10 are all a blur and somewhat scrambled in my brain.
