My Grandfather And I Were Very Close.

We're All Entitled To Our Superstitions.

When Men Die, They Die In Fear", He Said. "they Take Everything They Need From You, And As A Doctor It Is Your Job To Give It, To Comfort Them, To Hold Their Hand. But Children Die How They Have Been Living - In Hope. They Don't Know What's Happening, So They Expect Nothing, They Don't Ask You To Hold Their Hand - But You End Up Needing Them To Hold Yours. With Children, You're On Your Own. Do You Understand?

Everything Necessary To Understand My Grandfather Lies Between Two Stories: The Story Of The Tiger’s Wife, And The Story Of The Deathless Man. These Stories Run Like Secret Rivers Through All The Other Stories Of His Life – Of My Grandfather’s Days In The Army; His Great Love For My Grandmother; The Years He Spent As A Surgeon And A Tyrant Of The University. One, Which I Learned After His Death, Is The Story Of How My Grandfather Became A Man; The Other, Which He Told To Me, Is Of How He Became A Child Again.

Suddenness," He Says. " You Do Not Prepare, You Do Not Explain, You Do Not Apologize. Suddenly, You Go. And With You, You Take All Contemplation, All Consideration Of Your Own Departure. All The Suffering That Would Have Come From Knowing Comes After You Are Gone, And You Are Not A Part Of It.

Kelly Link's Prose Is Conveyed In Details So Startling And Fine That You Work Up A Sweat Just Waiting For The Next Sentence To Land. This Is Why We Read, Crave, Need, Can't Live Without Short Stories.