My paternal grandparents divorced when my father was six. My grandfather re-married when dad graduated from high school and was headed into the army. My step-grandmother was a widow with two sons right about my father's age (one older, one younger). Unfortunately, her oldest son died very young, leaving a wife and two young daughters. Her younger son married and had three girls after his 4 year enlistment. My parents married around the same time so my brother and I were within the same age group as these three youngest granddaughters. My brother and I were always treated differently and not in a good way by the adults of the step family. Eventually the attitude rubbed off the other kids in the step family and we were outcasts. I was a pretty happy kid but I was always keenly aware of being treated like we weren't good enough for them. So, when I grew up I pretty much stopped contact (I was "busy" during family get togethers because, frankly, I didn't want to cause a stir... I just wanted out). I was there when my grandfather dies and there when my grandmother died. I did my duty. I even made sure grandmother knew Duckie and received cards and photos regularly, but we didn't immerse ourselves in the family life. Grandmother passed away after my father died. Not one of them sent a card or showed for his memorial service. Not even a phone call. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So I go grocery shopping today and recognize one of the grand daughters also shopping. She approached me and asked we if we knew each other. It stung that she didn't remember me so I said "I don't think so, but I've worked in several local stores so perhaps it was while I was working." and left it at that.