On seeing ghosts

You can’t see him there but I can. Look close at the glass door.

Not long ago there were four balls of fur lazily zig-zagging across that floor. My sweet boy Crosby left this realm in June but thankfully he still lingers everywhere. I see his reflection in that glass. His memories of favorite things. Where his nose used to press, big eyes starring “let me outside. no let me back inside”. Where his face used to push against. Drool and left over food bits. Watching the world.

His bits of soul are everywhere. Some days with engulfing intensity.

I read or heard a quote the other day that went something like, “The courage to bear witness to death is the job. The courage to be there.”