This month is going to be insane.

I have two courses in summer school, two trips to DC, several medical appointments, and never-ending general life maintenance. There are good things, like my grandfather's 95th birthday, and bad things, like the one-year anniversary of my sister's death.

I can't believe it's been almost a year. I remember it so clearly. It was a Friday evening. I had been out running errands and was still amped up. I was so cheerful when I picked up the phone.

I wear something of hers every day. Usually, it's her favorite ring, a silver knot from Tiffany that she'd had for years. When she was in Boston in April of last year, she went to Tiffany and got something similar in gold for me. They were a grown-up version of friendship rings, a promise between sisters. Eight weeks later, she was gone.

Last summer and fall, I had a recurring dream of walking on a dirt road with my parents on a beautiful, sun-splashed day. I would twist around to look back, and I'd see her standing alone in the middle of the road, waving goodbye. I wanted to stop and wait for her, but I never could. As the leaves started to turn, I could still see her behind us, wrapped in summer, further and further away.

The season became autumn without her. Then it became winter without her. Then there was a new year without her, putting her in Last Year. Then her birthday came, and she missed it. And soon it will be a year.

The one-year mark is the end of the official mourning period in Jewish law. But we're not done mourning. We've hardly begun.

And I have so much work to do.