Me and my brothers are direct descendents of vietnam and holocaust survivors.

OK so nobody wants to hear about the Holocaust anymore. Certain ignoramuses claim it never happened, certain people claim we’re all just cashing in on some false fable. I know it happened cause I can see it in my grandma’s eyes, in the pictures of her siblings and parents who lost their lives.
If it wasn’t for the Holocaust or the Vietnam war, I wouldn’t be here. My parents were products of both. If it wasn’t for the holocaust my grandparents wouldn’t have met after the liberation of Auschwitz and gotten married. Grandpa already had a wife and two daughters before the war, who perished, grandma had a fiancée, who perished. So if it wasn’t for the Holocaust, not only would I nor my brothers be here, but neither would my mother, her sister, and her children. Does that make me a fan of what happened? No, I would give my existence back to the universe if I could, but I can’t. It is what it is. But every time I hear about holocaust denial I feel a violent sting. I feel like they’re denying my existence.
Than my father survived Vietnam. If he hadn’t gone through Vietnam he would have never had the life that led to meeting my mom. They met at los angeles city college in, I think, 1969. Without going through that war, my dad would have definitely married someone else. The funny thing is, I think the pain that both of those terrors, the holocaust, which affected my mother more indirectly than Vietnam affected my father, could have been part of what solidified the chemistry between them. My mother probably subconsciously was able to deal with my Dad’s Post traumatic stress and other disorders from the war because she had dealt with her parent’s.
So life is strange folks, or at least mine is. And I don’t believe in holding grudges against any nations who may have been responsible for atrocities towards my people. Any country can be propagandized to, and usually it’s the minority of people who speak out against them. And sins of the fathers have no bearing on their son’s character, of course. I must say it gives my life a burning sense of purpose. That I was made to express something. We all were though. I just want to dare to love. Dare to love the enemy, the one who demeans. Because often times, their thoughts are not their own.