You know you’ve done a good job when it brought up so many feelings for so many of us. My mother died December 2000. I was 36, and I still miss her everyday. She was also killed in a car accident. She was fun and very funny. When she would tell stories she did it using accents or making faces recreating the people that she was telling us about. In my earliest memories I would ask her to “do aunty — .” She would retell a story and maybe add a little bit. As any stand-up comic will say, “It’s all in the delivery.” Five of her grandchildren lived nearby, and so Saturday was her heaven. Those kids were her life and her breath. She always cooked and though she worked full time, she always made sure that everyone was over fed and had carry out leftovers when they left. We always had another 7 or 8 people come for dinner too. When one child had a birthday, she had to buy presents for the other kids too. She never wanted to make anyone feel bad, even if it was only a moment. All year long she would buy little things and put them away for a later date. Two years after she was gone, we found another stash of presents. Like me, I’d buy things, put them away and never find them, (for at least a year anyway). Money was tight, but I don’t think the kids ever felt like they didn’t get enough. For a poor family, we always made sure the kids had fun, and picking up the pots and pans, I continued the tradition of cooking for twenty every Saturday. I need to stop writing. I always write too long after not sleeping for a couple of days. Thank you for sharing your father with us, and in turn inspiring me to scratch down a couple sentences too. I guess this is how we keep our parents alive. Thank you Paulette.