This book hit home for me. 
 I know a little bit about grief. Conor's grief and the conflicting emotions he's grappling with are feelings that I myself have been through these past four months. When I lost my father to cancer in late August, I felt many things. Pain, grief, anger, hopelessness, and guilt. A lot of guilt. I believe guilt and grief coincide and I believe that's the message in A Monster Calls. It's not about fear. And it's not about death. It's about guilt being wrapped up in pain. Conor's truth is revealed late in the game, but it's made clear that he's known this truth all along. And it's eating at him. 
 I know a little something about guilt. It consumes you little by little and continues to eat at you until you reach deep down into yourself and face the truth. Forget the five stages of grief--I was feeling everything at once and in no particular order. But above all there was the guilt. I wanted all of it to just go away. None of it was fair. I didn't want to wait around in the hospital seeing my father waste away day after day (I'm going to remember him this way), I didn't want to have to say good-bye (why am I saying good-bye?), I didn't want to deal with the aftermath of people sympathizing (you have nothing to be sorry for), I didn't want to bury him (so final). And every time I thought these things, I would feel guilty immediately afterwards. After all, it wasn't my father's fault or the hospital's fault that this was happening. There was nothing anyone could do. This wasn't planned and it wasn't a consequence of some mistake. I had no one to be angry towards (and that angered me in itself). I had no one to blame but chance. To describe it as hopelessness is not doing it justice and there is no quick cure for hopelessness. 
 Letting go is the ultimate act of courage. There is nothing like it, and you will not understand how difficult it is until you have to do it yourself. Reading about it, seeing someone else go through it, is not enough. Life can sometimes throw something at you so scary, so incomprehensible, that you do not know how to deal. There is no way to prepare. Your very first instinct is to hold on hard, no matter what, because doing the opposite does not make sense. Conor has trouble with letting go, because above all there's that fear of the unknown. What will happen when the worst thing we can imagine does happen? Will I be strong enough to deal with it? Will it kill me? How will I cope? The fourth tale deals with this. It's a reassurance for Conor. He's going to be okay, and while the future looks a little bleak, he's strong enough to pull through. 
 I've let go of my father. I know I will survive the unknown. I know my truth. That's not to say days aren't hard, because they are. Sometimes my heart feels so heavy and there's a void so large that I wonder if anything will ever fill it again. I have days when I question fate, when I wonder how things might have been. But I feel a sense of peace. Wherever my father is now, he isn't in pain. He can be his true self. He's home. And while he's not here I have memories to take with me no matter where I go. When you are ready to say that final good-bye, to your anger, to your guilt, to your pain, but most of all, your fear, only then will you know the peace that comes with letting go. Conor has found this peace, and so have I. This is the cure for hopelessness and the one thing that can propel us forward. I am ready for the unknown.