My mother killed herself when I was fifteen.
Her nickname was “Baba.”
It means something like “doll.”

My mothers younger sister killed herself a few years later.
They called her “Tünde.”
It meant something like “fairy.”

Her older son no longer leaves his apartment.
He lives alone with his cats.

My uncle Szabolcs suffers from severe depressions and now also has dementia.
His two sons also suffer from depression.

As a child and young grown up I felt very lonely.
I felt worthless.

But I functioned.