Overture slid out of the space between docks effortlessly, professionally, under the able and talented steerage of Jahrae. Once away from land shadow, Jahrae felt the breeze kick in, and moved to raise the main sail, while first shutting down the small motor that powered them out of docking.

M’traliel saw to the headsail, while Khahishra saw to steering, holding the boat steady as it lurched forward from the force of sail catching the wind.

Once sails were set, the three relaxed, enjoying the warmth of late spring, attempting to find normalcy in their lives, with M’traliel and Khahishra trying to assist Jahrae in moving past the tragic loss of llhaesa the previous year.

Jahrae returned to home early in the year, recovered from the addiction that led her to run away and live homeless, uncaring if she lived or died. Thanks to the efforts of Jesnsera and Elsrensia, Jahrae pulled through, and returned determined to see llhaesa’s dream fulfilled.

This was her first sail since llhaesa’s loss, and undertaking this trip meant facing head on the most precious of memories of their marriage.

Jahrae grew up with sailing virtually in her blood; it was as natural as breathing. During their two years of marriage, Jahrae taught llhaesa to sail, the out of doors loving musician took an immediate liking to sailing, and on their first sail together, decided to buy the new and well equipped 9-metre Overture.

When M’traliel first mentioned a weekend on Overture, Jahrae resisted, knowing the memories would prove powerful and painful. Yet M’traliel insisted, patiently explaining that llhaesa would be aghast knowing Jahrae gave up something she so dearly loved, while wishing not to touch the memories of the good times had in association with the boat and the Bay.

M’traliel knew Jahrae had to face these issues squarely, else they would always lurk in the shadows, threatening to consume her if she dared to challenge what was in reality self-constraints.

When they reached the dock earlier, Jahrae stopped and stared off into the Bay, undoubtedly seeing Overture in her mind’s eye, llhaesa upon the boat, her hair waving in the breeze, her friendly smile stoking the fires of love that would always burn within Jahrae for llhaesa.

Two minutes passed before Jahrae moved again, simply saying, “Let’s get onboard and head out.”

For her part, Jahrae felt determined to face down the memories, to bend them to her will, to cherish without being their prisoner. Every place in the Bay that carried strong llhaesa memories – and there were many – Jahrae would attempt to visit. Although she did not share this with Khahishra and M’traliel, Jahrae hoped to see Empo, for it was with Empo that llhaesa first found a true connection to the water.

Their first stop was the small, uninhabited island where the sailing couple spent a night sleeping, pondering the sky, their love, and making good on merging both into treasured memory.

Leaving the boat, they walked the beach, circumventing the island. Jahrae stopped as something half buried in the sand caught her eye – a shell, displaying a myriad of changing colour as the light of Arrhka played upon its varied surface. Hesitating for a moment, Jahrae finally reached out for the shell, placing it in the palm of her hand.

The shell looked eerily like that of the one found on her walk of the island, and that she picked up to give to llhaesa. Llhaesa loved it so, and for that reason, Jahrae treasured the shell. Jahrae decided the universe sent a message to take the shell with her, a shell now discarded by its prior inhabitant.

Khahishra noticed the display of colour upon the item in Jahrae’s hand, and moved in for a closer look. “That looks like the shell you gave llhaesa,” she remarked, confirming Jahrae’s suspicion of similarity. “It is beautiful!”

M’traliel walked off to the Bay side of Khahishra and Jahrae, some 25 metres away and to their right, slowly walking through ankle deep water, dragging her feet to create a whooshing sound. She wore a colourful, predominantly blues and greens sarong around her waist, covering the one piece navy blue bathing suit below, the hem of the skirt sloshing through the water.

Through the loss of llhaesa and Jahrae’s subsequent disappearance, M’traliel distanced herself from the shock and loss of her friend. They had been lovers once, seven years before, and lived together for two years. Llhaesa was near and dear to her, even though they long since mutually decided to go their own ways romantically, and reform as friends.

M’traliel found llhaesa’s loss beginning to fully hit home; this feeling had tried to find purchase for weeks now, tried to catch M’traliel in reflective moments where grief would flood throughout her, finally coming to terms with the reality of llhaesa’s loss.

M’traliel lived with a singular vision, that of equality. Her enthusiasm mixed with that of the younger llhaesa, and both of them gained strength from the will of each other and their mutual drive to achieve equality. She could no longer shut out the pain of loss of her missing friend; it was time to come to terms with the truth.

M’traliel promoted the idea of this weekend, thinking it would benefit Jahrae. In reality, Jahrae was not alone in her need to face memories and learn to cope with them.

Now M’traliel and llhaesa’s shared vision, still residing in M’traliel, carried a new element, that of guilt. Llhaesa might still be alive if M’traliel had not encouraged her to accept calls she lead their world.

Llhaesa was closer to such an achievement than she realised. One turn of events, and the call for llhaesa to lead would reach a point where things would sweep her into the office of Chief of Government. The last interview done with llhaesa was a direct statement llhaesa intended to turn up the pressure, and once Brellian learned of this, there was no way llhaesa would be left alone to challenge him.

M’traliel let these thoughts swirl through her mind, let the chaos of the whooshing water physically represent the turmoil that now moved to run amok through her being.

First one tear eked out of a duct and softly slid down her face, a harbinger of a greater torrent in imminent readiness to release. When the second tear followed, it was larger and dropped rapidly, followed by an endless stream and uncontrolled wailing.

M’traliel dropped to the water, her sarong instantly soaking in the over washing water. Her hands came up and concealed her face, blocking as if she had no right to grieve, and no one should know she grieved.

Jahrae heard first, turning toward her right, seeing M’traliel distressed. Khahishra realised a split second later, and the two broke into a full out run, covering the short distance between they and M’traliel.

Both dropped into the water and moved to comfort M’traliel, knowing there was no need to ask what was wrong. The three rocked and cried and hugged, not moving from their watery place of grieving, trying to adjust to the absence of the final member of the four friends, the one each unintentionally and by default looked up to for guidance, for strength, to lead the way.

They were on their own now, but they still had each other.

The tide crept upward, up to their waists, and still they hugged, cried, rocked, and remembered. It was not until the water reached to the bottom of their breasts that they stood and moved to shore, and as they did, a noise from seaward called out.

Jahrae knew that high-pitched call.

She ran back into the Bay, moved into a swimming stroke that to M’traliel and Khahishra carried the grace and power of a professional, and determinedly swam to the source of the sound. Empo.

On this day, Empo failed to exhibit his usual playfulness, eschewing it for affection for Jahrae. He nuzzled, he brushed, he stayed close, and Jahrae would swear, cried. Jahrae wrapped her arms as best she could around the massive sea mammal, hugging and replicating the nuzzling by Empo.

They stayed there for maybe fifteen minutes, Khahishra and M’traliel marvelling at what unfolded out from shore. Empo made a move to swim and stopped, doing this thrice, until Jahrae realised he was trying to get her to swim with him. Jahrae held on, and off they went at breakneck speed.

Empo first swam parallel to land, then turned seaward, another turn parallel to land in the opposite direction, with one final turn towards the island, veering tangentially toward where M’traliel and Khahishra stood.

He brought her to within a few metres of shore; until the water was of such a shallow depth, he could come no closer.

Jahrae came to her feet, and then fell to her knees, giving Empo one final hug, reciprocated by one final nudge. He swam off as she watched, his fin finally disappearing under the water.

As she walked the last few metres to shore, Jahrae realised life goes on, that it is ok to grieve, that it is ok to remember. Something happens in death, the person we love morphs and leaves physically, but they become part of us, and where llhaesa lived onward, in her mind, in her soul, and in those of all she ever knew.

Less than a year after llhaesa’s loss, Jahrae had no inkling that fourteen years later, she would stand on the cusp of reuniting with her partner, and that the love of then would be exponentially stronger – if such a thing were possible – than the love of now.