I don't know if I should do multiple posts, but I probably will.
When I was younger, I was in Florida with my sister and my mom and I accidentally sliced open my knee. As I was sitting on the tile waiting for my mom to pull it together and for my sister to get the keys and her purse and everything to go to the hospital, I got on the phone with my dad. I was sobbing and I just wanted to hear his voice, so I asked him to tell me a story.
Most of the details changed every time, but the constant was that it was always about Elvis the Elf and his daughter who lived in the magical land of Memphis surrounded by an enchanted forest. I wish so much that I could hear him tell me that story one more time, so that I can have a version of it cemented in my memory. Every version he made sure to hammer in that Elvis loved his daughter more than anything. That's exactly who my dad was.