A funny thing, grief

You think you're going along

nicely, then some little thing

triggers it and you're lost.

'Oh, my precious, beautiful girl!'

I suddenly say to the air, as

out of nowhere the thought of her

grows large. My sweet cat,

who stayed with me 16 years.

I knew it was her time. I knew

she'd been happy in her life.

Focused now on her brother,

loving him through his loss,

I imagined I'd handled mine.

I have come to bed.

He is outside,

enjoying the cool night,

sprawled on our top step

or the car bonnet.

At some stage he will come in

and settle himself

next to my pillow.

It's become his spot.

But she was always

the sleeping companion before,

arriving as soon as I went to bed

at whatever time

from wherever she was,

even outside. It beat me how

she knew, but she always did.

She would cuddle up and purr

loudly, then snuggle all night.

He has not come in yet;

too early for him.

Therefore I am not

distracted by his presence ...

nor am I distracted

from her absence.

Her absence acquires

its own huge presence.

I lie down alone

and the tears come.

31 Poems in 31 Days (Poewar / Writer's Resource Center). Prompt: Write the final line of the  poem first, then work out how to get there.