They were an odd pair, the two of them. Familial circumstance had joined them in blood but their affections joined them in their hearts. And their hearts had been full.
She missed her sister. She cried at night, swallowing thick gobs of sadness with each deep breath.
She was old and weak. She didn't want to be alone anymore. She didn't want to gather the strength up each day to to pull her body out of bed.
She walked out into her yard with every inch of dignity she could muster in her flowered night gown. She fell to the ground and died with a violent spasm.
Her children mourned and her friends hoped they wouldn't die lying in their front yards dressed in an old pair of pajamas.
She walked with a proud, straight back for the first time in decades across her yard, not even stealing one glance at the sad lump in the distance behind her. She kept strong, quick strides up to the point of the vista in front of her and met her sister in a warm embrace.
They spoke no words and shed no tears. They held hands and walked into the abyss.