As I compile my notes and thoughts for Hybrid this week, I am acutely aware of one person from whom I will never be able to receive verbal answers. My father, who died last summer after battling Alzheimer’s for a number of years.

That realization became more poignant when my mother walked up the stairs and delivered an 18-page handwritten speech about her life that she’d put together for a retreat about a decade ago. Her description of how she and my dad became engaged in India, because they couldn’t be seen walking together in public unless they were engaged, was news to me. I only wish I could have asked my father what he thought when my mother informed him that the only way they could continue to associate was for them to be engaged. He agreed, by the way.

In framing the introduction, I clarify how I’m sharing my memories and understanding of why I am who I am in the light of my hybrid upbringing. I’m grateful I have many living family members who graciously inform me when asked. And for any of you with living parents, don’t forget to ask them everything you want to know now. Because you never know when that time will be gone.

It’s strange I feel I sometimes know what my father would have said. I just miss hearing his voice.

My Hybrid journey week 5.