You are not alone, nor are you found wanting because of the result.

I share that sort of experience, except in my case it was my mother. I was the youngest of three and, at best, I was an inconvenience. There was little room for anyone in my mother's world besides my mother, and she was the hero of that world. If anyone got in the way of her being the centre of the universe, her ability to destroy that person by any insidious means possible knew no bounds.

I met my grandparents but never really got to know them, because she harboured great resentment for her mother and loathed my dad's parents. Thus, items like that toolbox are more valued for what might have been rather than pleasant childhood memories.

My father was just overwhelmed so my childhood isn't one to dwell upon either. He and I became close only after I was an adult, indeed while I was a soldier. I'm grateful for those years.

Meanwhile, she continued in her vindictive narcissistic ways and lived in her fictional world until she died. Any last chilling words she might have said I missed as I chose not to attend that last bit of grand theatre.

If you were sent down a road you didn't want to travel by my posting, maybe I should apologise. On the other hand, we can travel it together, mate. I'll go with you!