A year ago this month, my housemate and dear friend for many years, Elisabeth Targ, MD, was diagnosed with brain cancer, a condition which rapidly progressed until it overtook her last summer.

It was Easter weekend when the results came back from the MRI of the golf ball sized tumor on the right hemisphere of her brain.

A year ago today she was recovering from her surgery to remove the tumor, was walking without pain, doing yoga every morning, beaming as much love as she could to all who came to visit. She was asking forgiveness of everyone, including me, whom she felt she had slighted or wronged.

The enormity of what she was facing weighed down on all of those of us around her. Spring was here, the daffodils, tulips, and roses in the garden were all blooming. ET came into my room after a shower, and laid down naked on a towel, telling me about her future plans with her husband-to-be, our other housemate, Mark.

I listened with as much love as I could, trying not to let my fear of the future jinx her chances for a miraculous recovery and the possibility of the fulfillment of her dreams. She laughed about her nudity, telling me she didn’t care anymore and hoped I didn’t mind.

It’s the small moments I remember.