I was 2.5 years old when my father died and my mom was almost 8 months pregnant with my brother... He came early, six days after the fathers death and we almost lost him too... We survived some awful things... And let me tell you, I wasn't aware of anything... I was a kid, happy kid. Doing what kids do... Everything we had, was a charity. From food to clothes to nylon on our windows. It was not important how it looks at that point, you are happy with whatever you got. I was happy with some caned meat our cat wouldn't eat. *Im in the middle of thirties for the record.