Today would have been Tom’s 47th birthday. We always go out to dinner as a family on, or near, each of our birthdays so mom and dad and I are getting together tonight. It’s the first year without Tom so I’m not sure how I feel about it. I guess I’m a little anxious, and sad, of course. Forty-seven is too young to die for anyone but especially for someone who loved life the way Tom did. I mean, look at how enthusiastically he embraced this stuffed dog on his second birthday. So cute. I would love to hug him like that today.