Are you in a Private Place?

One year ago today I got a call from my Dad's nursing home and that is the only sentence I remember exactly...Are you in a private place?

The nursing supervisor wanted to be sure that I wasn't in a public place like the supermarket while she told me that my Dad had died a short while before she called me.

It was a very thoughtful question but little did I know then how it would define part of me.

Much of what has shaped me is now in a very private place and is unknown even to me as the last person who knew a lot of it is now gone.

I'm pretty sure that my poor singing voice is genetic, that the shape of jaw is definiely from my Dad's side of the family and that my legs come from my Mom's side of the family but what quirk of fate has made me break most of my toes and contributed to my complete lack of physical grace?

Why am I terrifed of snakes but can whack away at bugs with gleeful abandon?

And how the heck did I get that big lump on my head?

I'm sure there are family stories behind some of these questions, maybe even family secrets to keep private but now I'll never know.

There were private, now unknown.

Rest in Peace , Dad.