It is such a sad thing when a beloved author dies. Sometimes they die and, in reading the bio, I find that they are old and have lived long full lives. It is sad because even though I've never met them, favored authors are like good friends. It's hard to say good bye but they've earned their rest and I wish them well.
Sometimes though, they die too young. Authors are not always the healthiest people after all. Writing is a sedentary profession and it is "art" which attracts all sorts. Anna Dewdney just died. She was, at least as far as I can tell, not suffering from unhealthy life choices. Yet, she was just 50 when she passed. She died of brain cancer and somehow it seems worse that she will never produce anymore children's books.
I admit that I only discovered her a year ago but, since I have a toddler, I've spent a lot of time reading her books over and over. Good children's books don't grow stale with re-reading and the Llama Llama books were some of the best. She will be missed.
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