Koa's Shrine

Colorful shells from nightly walks on the rocky shore. Glittering mica from an abandoned mine. Wildflowers from a picturesque meadow.  Feathers found at rest on a bed on pine needles.  All these artifacts of our summer explorations were brought back to Koa's last resting place with heavy hearts. By summer's end, a small cache of nature's riches marked the spot.  On Danielle's last visit to the shrine, a solitary maple leaf drifted down, atop the pile.  It hinted at the first signs of fall and signaled a turning of the seasons in our family life -- a benediction.

Though we carefully tucked Koa's ashes into our luggage, it was hard not to feel as though we were leaving her behind.  Even now, some four months on and two thousand miles removed, there is a palpable vacancy in our lives. Tears still roll when Danielle realizes Koa isn't coming back, and I can barely bring myself to talk about it. So we reestablished a shrine to Koa in our living room. Lit by a single candle, it is both a memorial and a request. A request that Koa guide the next soul in need into our lives.