The Shelf

At home, we have a lot of bookshelves.
On one shelf, we put boxes of ashes, collars, candles, and cat toys.
Reminders of friends long gone. The best.
Edloe’s tiara and collar.
Nardo’s mousey.
But nothing for Bruwyn.
He never had a favorite toy.
And we never got his body back.
We usually got him black collars with white ghosts and the word Boo.
For two years, I’ve tried to buy one. But couldn’t.
I just couldn’t do it.
Until now.
It’ll go on the shelf with the others.
It’s not closure.
But as close to it I’ll ever get.