Today is the eve of Thanksgiving. It's our family's first Thanksgiving without her around. We always had dinner at her house. This year, it's at ours. The food won't be nearly as good. The room won't be as warm.
Just a year ago she was well, as healthy as can be. Four months ago, she was diagnosed. Four weeks ago, she died. She was here, the wind blew, and now she's gone.
So earlier today, the day before the four-week anniversary of her passing, I did something that many people would call just plain dumb. They can think that.
I gave myself a tattoo. It's really small and on my hip. It's the Russian word for dust. Life is fragile and momentary.
Love you always,