There is a cat named Ogi. Months ago, some of Dave’s friends adopted a kitten and were at a loss for a name until someone, amongst all the suggestions, suggested Dave’s nickname. I pictured him groaning in the afterworld at having a cat named after him. I mean, how trite. But then I couldn’t quite be sure. I often find cats kind of eerie and sometimes I wonder if the feline helps him, the dead, connect to the living world. Maybe, just maybe he’s continuing to hang with his friends in some manner, even if it is just through their memories and a cat named Ogi.
I don’t know if I really believe in ghosts or an in-between realm. And while it gives me some comfort at times to think Dave is beside me, watching over me, encouraging me, lying with me, I also know it is a coping mechanism – I keep trying to feel for some kind of connection with him, my own personal ghost.
Today, as I recognize six months since Dave left, I am fully aware how much my body and soul miss him. I am always aware of that. There is always something missing. He is missing. And while I know no one can ever take his place, I do know that I am also more fully aware that he will always be missing and he will always have a place in my heart. After all, he was the one who opened it – in truth, my heart belongs to him.