I think we may all be little children about the people we love. It is easy to say ‘I can’t believe she’s gone’, and the phrase is a cliché because it has been true so often, of so many much-loved people. I find myself thinking that if maybe I don’t read that last book, the one I can’t read till the next one comes out, maybe, somehow, she won’t be gone, because she’ll have to write that next book for me, for all of us.
Bursting into tears minutes before leaving for work = AWESOME.
Go. Read the whole thing.
(And, in case you didn't know, we're in the middle of an ongoing DWJ Celebration.)