Please don't tell my dad about this blog

Something triggered this memory today (unfortunately, my memory works in such a way that I remembered this part but not the part that includes the thing that triggered this early memory):

When I was a kid (Oh boy, I hope this isn't included on the post I did a while back on "when I was a kid" things. I'm too lazy to check, so I'm hoping your memory is just as bad as mine is. I don't know how it could be, though. Who are you again?), I overheard my dad and my grandmother talking about an elderly relative who had died (this could all be wrong, but go with it). Apparently she had slipped in the shower. In my kid brain, I interpreted that to mean that she had fallen and been sucked down the drain, never to be seen again. It only occurred to me years and years and years later (like maybe last year) that she probably hit her head or something. I don't even know who this relative is--and I guarantee you, money-back guarantee, in fact--that if I ask my dad about a relative who died in the shower, he'd look at me like I was nuts (much the way he looks at me when I contradict anything--everything--Larry Elder has to say. Yes, I'm serious).