Charles L. Grant
I just got an email from Doug Winter telling me that Charles L. Grant -- Charlie Grant -- had passed away. He said,
Charlie Grant died last night at home of a heart attack. It happened very quickly, around 11pm. He had been watching a baseball game on television with Kathy and his brother, Jack. Kathy and Jack went to the kitchen for some food, and when they returned a few minutes later, he was gone.
Ten days ago, Charlie had been able, at long last, to return home. That had been his hope -- to die at home, and not in the hospital. Particularly after all he had been through, the end was merciful, and what he wanted.
This is who Charlie Grant was: http://www.ihgonline.org/grant.html.
The last time I saw him he was grey (hair, skin and beard) and gaunt and sick. Now he's dead, I find I'm thinking of him as I first knew him, meeting him at a British Fantasycon in about 1984, smart and funny and sharp, with a dark beard and dark hair and dark eyes, and I was in awe of him because he'd written some of the most gently evocative horror short stories I'd ever read and he had a Nebula Award and had written books and he had pseudonyms and everything.
And now I'm just thinking about Time, and what it gives us, and what it takes away.
Charlie Grant died last night at home of a heart attack. It happened very quickly, around 11pm. He had been watching a baseball game on television with Kathy and his brother, Jack. Kathy and Jack went to the kitchen for some food, and when they returned a few minutes later, he was gone.
Ten days ago, Charlie had been able, at long last, to return home. That had been his hope -- to die at home, and not in the hospital. Particularly after all he had been through, the end was merciful, and what he wanted.
This is who Charlie Grant was: http://www.ihgonline.org/grant.html.
The last time I saw him he was grey (hair, skin and beard) and gaunt and sick. Now he's dead, I find I'm thinking of him as I first knew him, meeting him at a British Fantasycon in about 1984, smart and funny and sharp, with a dark beard and dark hair and dark eyes, and I was in awe of him because he'd written some of the most gently evocative horror short stories I'd ever read and he had a Nebula Award and had written books and he had pseudonyms and everything.
And now I'm just thinking about Time, and what it gives us, and what it takes away.
