ABSTRACT
When Nana died” (Alapack, 2001b; 2005b; 2006a) is an intimate study. It is a triple first: my first conversation about death … with my first child … whom death was visiting for the first time. Nicole, my beloved daughter, was four years two months old at the time of this first “appointment”. Ruth, her Nana, her mother’s mother, died of cancer. Since this death also mattered fiercely to me, the universe scheduled me an appointment. About this “imperative moment”, I feign no neutrality or disinterest. I am a living witness. Coiled within the spiral of events, I never pretend to stand outside them. The data itself is the story. My narrative hides nothing. Its warmth and transparency showcase Aristotle’s affirmation: one is wise to seek no proof about what is self-evidently true. Like “Vigilance”, this story is existential, but not a myth or an interpretative story. I wear no mask of an “implicated alien”, not by a long shot! Here comes an unvarnished account of a fragile father, flying by the seat of his pants, reflectively highlighting its sense and drawing from it general psychological insights.
