on sphinxes and surviving

I have been missing the ones who have gone on before this week, calling their names in quiet moments, wishing they could hear and I could make contact just one more time, remembering from this space of many losses to love more actively those few still alongside. The big orange cat, for instance, who is wary of the desert and thus has lived longer than most cats do here. Sphinx-like, he abides. As do they all, in my heart. And beyond.