When my baby brother died at 14 months it was very emotionally and physically painful for my parents. Their grief was so deep and so heart breaking they could not take care of me at 4 years old or my 6 year old sister. My Mother never wanted to hurt like that again. She wrapped herself in grief. She distanced herself from us. She resented having to take care of us. She resented us because we were alive and he was dead. It was so very sad around our house. I watched every move my Mother made. I watched her body language. I listened to her tone of voice and her words to see if I had made her happy. I tried to be good. I tried to be perfect. I tried and tried and tried to make her care about me and love me. All my life nothing has ever worked. The perfectionist was born. The controlling personality was born. The need to be right was born. I learned to beat myself up when I made any mistake. I was never quite good enough for them to love. Yes, I forgive them. They do love me in their own way. They did what they were capable of at that time. I love them and yes, I take care of them today.