Anne Smith visits the same shops every Saturday, and on Sunday, she attends church. That is the only time you will ever see her with people. She doesn't like fancy things, or anything that bends more light than it should.

She prefers a simple life, but her mind resides elsewhere. It often drifts to the view outside her office window - a serene scene of an empty field by large bodies of water. She finds her utmost happiness in these little things.

She bears the moniker ‘the old cranky woman’. Anne is difficult to understand, which makes it easier to hate her. The young girls prefer this option, believing that if your wrinkles number fewer than the fingers on your hand, and your blemishes can be concealed by a touch of foundation, then you are immediately superior. I have realised that people usually dislike others who embody the qualities that expose their own insecurities. In this case, Anne is a constant reminder of ageing.

Anne is special to me. She is the home I run to on Christmas Day, understanding me as only she can. The only way to reach her is through her work email. If you forget to reply, she assumes you're lost in ‘another world’, as she puts it.

Her job embodies her, so it is strange when her inbox starts rejecting your emails. It is difficult to find a person with no social media or phone number, when all you know is her residence, her work and her favourite shops. After days of searching, it becomes apparent that she has left this world.

If I said I had no inkling of this, I would be lying. I kept searching nevertheless, in the hope of proving myself wrong. If only I had slowed down when we were walking, or annoyed her more often, or replied to her earlier, or visited her sooner. I just needed a bit more time to finish the things I had started. I could have built a family and a haven for us. But time waits for no one, and it does so without mercy.

Now she is gone, and there is nothing I can do but yearn in the time that remains. As this is the only time I will ever grieve, I worry for those who have families queued up for their turn.