Loss is a strange thing. Art and pop culture like to romanticize it - turn it into something jarring and howling, something that hits you like a car crash or rocks you to your core in a fiery explosive episode. Who knows? Maybe for some people it is.

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It wasn't like that for me.

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Loss for me was different than all of that. It was a gap. It was reaching for something only to have my fingers trace through hollow and empty air. It was flicking a light switch and still finding myself in darkness. It wasn't explosive, it wasn't instant, and it didn't feel like anything I could learn from.

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It was erosive. It came in slow like a moonlit tide. It washed against my shore and took pieces of me bit my bit. Then again, I suppose when she left - or disappeared - it wasn't like someone dying in a car crash or being gunned down. It offered no such immediate closure, even if the closure was dark and definitive. It only asked a question. The first day it was asked in an urgent but soft tone. Then a week later it was speaking. Months later it was desperate, screaming. It asked itself so often, so unyieldingly, that after months you simply have to answer. I had to answer.

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I finally had spoken the words to myself. She's gone. She's really gone, and she won't come back.

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So then I was there. Sitting in that thinly cushioned chair, surrounded by people who kept trying to cast discreet glances towards me - to see "how i'm holding up."

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It was crisp outside, finally the coming of autumn. She drew quite a crowd. The gazebo was packed, with attendants overflowing into the large garden on the hill. Of course there was no body, so we figured we would have it outside, somewhere beautiful. If her soul resided anywhere, that's where it would be. She never really fit into a stuffy church scene, anyways.

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The wind gusted sharply as the last speaker finished, casting a torrent of sharply red leaves across the crowd which popped against the ocean of black formal wear. Like her giving us all one last goodbye. Stylish, understated, and resplendent. Distinctly herself.

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Her mother came over to speak to me. I smiled and laughed as she reminisced. We took turns sharing our favorite stories - like the time she tried to jump on a passing fish from the boat to catch it, earning a serious sting from the catfish. It wasn't really all that funny then, but now it just seemed to fit. We spoke for some time, fighting back the darkness with these little bits of her light. As we spoke though, our stories began to wear out. The battery grew weaker and the light flickered. So, in that coming darkness, we shared a goodbye.

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Then I sat alone in that gazebo as the sun began to set behind the hill. Or so I had thought.

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She stood a ways back, by the walkway. When I saw her, my heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. That auburn hair was so distinctive, her mannerisms unmistakable. For an instant, all the color returned to my world. As my footfalls pounded against the wood of the floor, then across the dried up grass, pieces of me began to reform.

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"Annie!" I shouted, "I - oh my god!"

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But as I drew closer her face shifted into a look of deep sadness, bordering on fear. Her lips parted as if to say something, and her eyes grew wide.

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"You're here. You're here." As I drew near my arms moved of their own accord, reaching for an embrace that would fix everything.

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"No - no, I'm not," she tried to speak. As she began though, I had already enveloped her.

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I didn't mean to cry. I didn't even feel it coming. I hadn't felt much of anything in what had seemed a very long time. But there, for some time, all I could do was weep.

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Her body seemed so rigid, though. Her arms came around me, but timidly.

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"I'm not her. I'm so sorry." The voice that came was just like hers. The same airiness, the exact cadence.

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"What? What are you talking about? It's - it has to be..." I reluctantly pulled from the embrace and looked at her.

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Her hazel green eyes stared back, accentuated be her sharp cheeks. She wore her distinct pout. Yet... something deep behind those eyes wasn't right. A spark was missing.

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"I - ..." she began, "I'm her sister."

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"She doesn't have a sister. She.. Annie? What are you talking about?"

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Her pout deepened, her lips arching into a deeply sad frown. Her eyes softened as she spoke, struggling to find the right words.

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"I'm so, so sorry. I just... I had to come. I had to be here."

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My heart pounded faster. I could feel sweat forming on my palms.

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"Our family was - well, I'm somewhat estranged. I didn't mean to do this. I didn't know you were still here. I thought the service had ended an hour ago. I'm - " she stuttered on for a moment, but her look said everything. It apologized for the joy she'd brought, because the pain that came behind it hurt worse than before. It was the understanding and brief transfer of heartbreak born all over again.

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"I should go," she whispered, turning sharply on her heel.

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"Wait! You can't.. you can't go! Wait!" I pushed to follow her, quickly walking behind. She sped up though, spouting an apology as her pace quickened.

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My legs gave out a few steps on. In truth I'm not sure why I had started. There was no logic in it, only the desperate throws of someone reaching for something which was vacant.

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I watched her go. She sped along over the crest of the hill, her figure bobbing as she made her escape. I watched her grow smaller, backlit by the setting sun. I watched until she finally came over the top and disappeared into the distance beyond.

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The wind kicked up one last time, a few red leaves dancing through the trees. The swirled lazily towards me, and touched my coat tenderly. One last time.