I don’t yet have a place I go to be with Zoey– to feel her presence, her love.  We decided to have her cremated so there’s no grave to visit.  I feel this was the right decision. We won’t have the guilt of not visiting her grave enough.  Of not putting flowers out every holiday.  The kind of guilt I have for not visiting my dad.  But he’s not really there and she wouldn’t be either.  Zoey is getting a brick in her honor at the Zoo. It isn’t there yet, but maybe we’ll visit there someday so we can see her name written.  She spent most of her life at home, but we never really used her bedroom and other than the first few nights without her, I haven’t even been able to sit in “our” chair.  I suspect the place I’ll feel closest to her is where we spread her ashes.  I’ve always felt most at peace near a beach anyway.  I’ll use the same words I used at her service:  We’re going to spread her ashes somewhere beautiful.  We’ll take her to the ocean that Joe and I love so much so that when I picture her, I can imagine the sun kissing her little cheeks and that sweet dimple.  Where she can chase a sea turtle around the cove.  Where she can watch dolphins dancing on the horizon.  And where she can let the sound of the waves meeting the sand gently ease her to sleep.

And when I return to the islands, I will feel her there.  In the wind, in the sun, in the water.