“What I didn’t know about death,” Tyler said, squinting at his fingernails, “was that it was not just the death of my father, but the death of my childhood, the death of the family as I’d known it. It reminds me of Glenn Miller’s plane disappearing above the channel. Not just the death of a bandleader, you see, but the death of a band.” He looked out the window. “That’s what death does. If that makes any sense.”
