Where do I begin? Saturday mornings waking up early to be with him while he made his weekly pancakes for us? How he cut them in a grid for me? Or my adult days with him. Or do I go back to the day I showed up to the hospital? Where he held my hand tight when we were alone. Where he told me he loved me and asked me to hold on to him. Do I start there? Because all I want to do is rewind and pull him back to hear his laugh, his voice. I keep reliving those last moments with him right now. I hope that's normal grieving:) The day after Christmas 1973 My mom told me she would throw a big Christmas party for all their young couple friends and serve a variety of Mexican food. One year she told my Dad she couldn't because she was very very pregnant with Leslie. He wasn't quite grasping why she wasn't up to it ...haha (she gave birth to Leslie on January 7th btw) She told me he got tears of disappointment in his eyes when she said she just couldn't do it. My Dad loved