You certainly have had an interesting life. Mine seems prosaic by comparison.
My grandparents were all dolts of one sort of another. On my mom’s side they were both racists to an extent that was out there even by the sorry standards of the 1950s. Thankfully, my mom's rebellion consisted, in part, of her rejecting their racist ideology. Otherwise who knows what I might have grown up thinking!
On my dad's side, grandpapa was a pathetic drunkard. He died when I was 9 of cirrhosis. I remember him on his pathetic death-bed being pathetic. Grandmama mourned him but, as I learned later, was glad to be rid of him. Children are generally not capable of comprehending such complexity. She lived to be 97, 95 years unassisted, so she had something like two decades of life unburdened by his shit. She couldn't cook worth a damn but made awesome oatmeal cookies.
She made her daughters wait on my father hand and foot, her logic being that they would have to spend their lives waiting on a man so they might as well get used to it. As a result my dad, who was a good dad, was awfully sexist.