by Janis Susan May/Janis Patterson
As writers our job is to create emotions and reactions to
those emotions, be it a love story or a murder mystery or whatever. Sometimes
we get so used to playing God, creating and manipulating those emotions and
reactions in the way we want, that when real emotions from real situations hit
us we are blindsided and overwhelmed.
2018 has not been a good year. As you probably know, this
spring my long-time, beloved cover artist Dawn Charles was found dead in her
apartment. While devastating, her passing was a grief but not really
surprising. Her health had been iffy for years, and sometimes it seemed she
spent as much time in the hospital as out. Still, we did about 20 book covers
together, emailed or chatted on the phone at least once a fortnight - and more
often than not a couple of times a week. Though we never met in person, she was
closer and more dear to me than a lot of people with whom I share DNA.
Then last week I received the shattering news that Dr. Dirk
Huyge had died suddenly and unexpectedly.
Curator of the Royal Museum of Art and History in Brussels and Director
of the Belgian Archaeological Mission to Elkab, Dirk and I had met online when
I was casting about for help on information on the Elkab necropolis for THE
EGYPTIAN FILE. We became friends, and after a while he thought that I do a book
about the dig house at Elkab, which is widely believed to be haunted by the
ghost of its builder, Somers Clarke. I thought he was joking, but as time
progressed he suggested that The Husband and I come to stay for a while in the
dig house - a thing that civilians never get to do.
I wanted to, I really really wanted to, but we had been
traveling a lot and The Husband was on one of his periodic 'we're spending too
much and we have to cut down on expenses' kicks. I don't give up easily,
though, so after telling Dirk I would see I sat and thought for several hours.
marshalling every argument I could think of about why this would be a good
thing. By the time The Husband came home I had a huge and cogent presentation
ready. He walked in the door and I started in - 'Darling, Dirk has asked us to
come stay at the dig house and I think...'
That was the end of it. He looked at me and said, 'Sounds
great. When do we go?'
Now it is a long and expensive way from Dallas to Luxor to
Elkab, especially for less than a week, so The Husband I decided to make a real
holiday of it. We contacted Jane Akshar, who rents luxurious holiday flats on
the west bank of Luxor for what to American eyes is a ridiculously low rent,
and arranged to stay with her. I met Jane online at the same time I met Dirk,
and she too has become a dear and beloved friend (as well as a gifted and
creative webmistress for my website) as well as my go-to reference about the
minutiae of being in Egypt.
Dirk invited us in the middle of January; on March 15th we
boarded the plane for Egypt. We didn't get to stay as long as we liked at the
dig house (don't know how long that would be - I'd like to be there still) but
the house is not all that large when a full dig crew is in residence, and we
had to be sandwiched in between the visits of our dear friend Salima Ikram and
a film crew from the BBC. And in order for us (non-professionals in the field
of Egyptology) to come to the dig at all Dirk had to work his way through
several layers of mind-boggling Egyptian bureaucracy to get us permission to
stay. The Egyptians are very protective of their antiquities, and as a
consequence very few civilians get to see archaeology from a dig house
perspective.
When the day came for us to leave Luxor for Elkab, we had
agreed to call Dirk on the way to the train station and he would come get us,
as we would never be able to find the dig house on our own. He was right about
that; to reach the dig house involved a long drive through a road-less
wasteland populated with a few mean little huts, a couple of dead cattle and
two enormous cemeteries.
But that was to come. We called Dirk from the pre-arranged
spot on the road, and just as we pulled into the train station a big old and
sort of battered Land Rover pulled in beside us. Out of it stepped a tall,
ruggedly handsome man of a mature age (think an older Indiana Jones type) who
started walking toward me. 'Susan?' he asked. 'Dirk?' I replied. Then he swept
me into an extravagant, MGM type of embrace.
Now make no mistake and don't misconstrue this story - Dirk
was married to a lovely woman whom he absolutely adored. I am more happily
married than most to the most wonderful man in the world - and he was standing
not ten feet away from us. But... that enthusiastic hug in the dusty parking
lot of a small-town train station in Egypt is STILL one of the most romantic moments
in my lifetime, and I will always remember it fondly.
Our stay at Elkab was magical and much much too short. The
crew was welcoming, helpful and a great deal of fun. After we went home Dirk
and I stayed in contact by email - not as much as perhaps we should have been,
but then we had no idea that time was so short. We had begun to play with the
idea of doing a mystery with him as the sleuth - but only after he retired. We
had talked about it when A KILLING AT EL KAB was in the inception stages, but I
didn't want to risk casting any kind of a shadow on his excellent reputation as
an archaeologist and a scholar... but I did want him in the book. So, he became
the only 'real' person featured in the book, but only in two quick appearances.
Now the Dirk-as-sleuth idea in a future book is permanently retired, as I
couldn't do it without him.
One final, bittersweet note. On Sunday I received a sweet
email from Dirk's wife, telling me how much he enjoyed A KILLING AT EL KAB and
asking permission to use my description of him in the book at his memorial
service. I don't mind telling you that made me weep, and of course I gave my
permission. Her request is a lovely tribute to both of us.
We always think we will do whatever-it-is tomorrow, but
sometimes it is brought forcibly on us that we are never guaranteed a tomorrow.
So - embrace your friends, tell you family that you love them, do what is
important to you today. Sometimes there is no tomorrow.
RIP, Dawn Charles.
RIP, Dr. Dirk Huyge.
The world is poorer for your absence.
