Read to the end and the title will make sense. I promise :) The author Amy Krouse Rosenthal earlier this year at the age of 51 due to cancer. I had never heard of Amy until about two weeks before she died yet I felt a tremendous sadness at her passing. From what I’ve heard of her though, she was a woman who made the world a little brighter. It turns out that Amy was a children’s author, which is what surprises me because I spent the past two years swallowing all children’s books I could lay my hands on. Somehow none of her books ever crossed my path. I heard about her because of an essay she wrote for the New York Times in which she wrote an imaginary dating profile for her husband, who was going to have to keep living once she passed away. Amy’s love and tenderness poured out from every word on the page. Despite the cancer and medication that were both eating away at her ability to form coherent sentences, she wrote with a poignancy I can only hope for in my own writing....