My dad was a storyteller, and when he passed I realized my kids only knew the highlight reel from his funeral. So I started telling them one Dad story at dinner each week: the time he got locked out in his bathrobe, the way he sang off key on purpose to make us groan. Now they ask for stories the way they used to ask for dessert. His absence still hurts, but the stories turned him from someone we lost into someone we get to introduce. I would tell any grieving family: do not let the stories stop.
Every story matters.
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