A Word of Explanation

Roughly one month ago, this blog went dark with no advance warning. 

On August 15, I posted that the blog was down due to a family emergency.

That emergency was a dire one: my mother had been hospitalized due to a serious deterioration in her health.  I flew out to Florida on August 11^th to be with her.  She died the following day, peacefully and surrounded by family. A story for another day.

As the family struggled with grief and undertook the painful practicalities to put her affairs in order, and worked to ensure my father was prepared for a life without his wife of 58 years, we were invaded by covid. (My mother’s illness and death not been covid-related.)

Of the eight family members present in Florida, all of whom were fully vaccinated, six became infected with the virus: only my youngest niece and I managed to dodge it. Another story for yet another day.

My father’s case was acute.  Eleven days after my mother’s death, I had to bring him to an emergency room.  Nine days later he died.

(The other family members who caught the virus have almost entirely recovered, and do not appear to be in any serious danger.)

This is not a post to eulogize my parents, only to explain the extended silence. 

I had planned to resume blogging with a post paying tribute to my parents, but I’ve been finding it difficult to find the words to do them justice.  It will surely take time for me to be able to express my thoughts and feelings adequately, insofar as it’s taking time for me to get a grip on what they are. However, I don’t want that to stand as an obstacle to writing about anything else.  I’ve returned to Denmark, I’ve resumed work, I have overcome my jetlag, and life is gradually resuming its regular rhythms.  Writing is one of those rhythms.

I will eulogize my parents in this space eventually, when I can do so properly: with organized thoughts presented in a coherent order and with plenty of photographs.

For now, though, let me only say I have not only lost both my parents, but two of my best friends, my most ardent supporters, my most incisive critics—and my most loyal readers. (I always figured they were about half the readership of this blog.)

Anne Lewy Nagan and Douglas Andrew Nagan were both 80 years old when they died. They are survived by my sister and myself and our families, as well as my mother’s older sister and my father’s  younger brother, and their families. They had been married for 58 years. 

Beloved parents and grandparents, their loss will always be felt.