Deployment sucks. It's a long, long time without someone you love and depend on, and you never realize how long the time is until it's here. The stress, fear and sadness manifests in different ways. Some days are truly horrible, in the gutter, face-in-a-bathroom-towel crying. Sometimes it's touchy anger, annoyed at everyone and feeling like you want to explode. It's also wanting to call them, just to talk about your day, and text them about nothing, in the middle of the night -- USA time.

My sister is in the Army Reserves, and has been for a good 14 years now. She is amazing at what she does. I never thought she would be deployed. Who ever thinks about deploying the Army Reserves?

But someone did, and her unit leader chose her specifically, because of her talent. That always bothered me. She didn't have to go; she wasn't even meant to go, but they came and took her. That's how it seemed to me.

She'd spent the summer making memories at Firefly Festival and Disney World. By late summer, a few days before my senior year, my grandma angrily blurted out that she was leaving, and my dad was both apologetic and angry.

I didn't see her again until Thanksgiving. She hugged me hard, and I tried to hold back tears. I spent half my time during Christmas with my brother, and the other half with my sister and her family, as we visited Hershey Park. More memories, more moments.

The last time I saw her was January 10, and it was oddly warm and bright. We had lunch at Applebee's, and my family helped pack my things in the room. She wrote my name on cans, boxes and anything she could find.

We stood in the parking lot, taking group pictures with my Dad before she left. I didn't think about the fact that this was the last time I'd see her until she came back home.

We hugged tightly, but I can't remember if it was tight enough. When I think back to how it felt, I could feel her bones, but that's pretty easy with my sister -- she's tall and skinny. I'm short and curvy. Two sides of a coin.

I watched her ride away. She shouted, "I love you, girl." I shouted it back. I didn't feel like crying then. I felt adventurous, as I do at every new semester.

Fast forward to now, April 23, a day before finals week, two days before my finals, and two weeks away from graduation.

I never realized how much her deployment would feel like the deepest hole missing inside of me. I dread graduation because for the first time, she won't be there. I will be a little sad, because she can only yell, "Go, Pookie!" from the Skype screen. I'm sad she won't see me get my license, or start graduate school, or try to rent an apartment. She calls herself my "guardian angel," and I look to her for advice, for secrets, for help -- everything.

My family and I have been through two Yellow Ribbon events (an organization created to help families get through all deployment stages), one in Seattle and one in Atlanta. Each one was like a trial from God, testing our mental health, the support of each other, our relationships with each other. The only moment I felt close with my sister at those events was sitting on the roof terrace of the Sheraton in Atlanta, and looking at the very tall, extravagant buildings. I could imagine my sister sitting there, in a funny straw hat, with an iced coffee and a newspaper. She would point out the different buildings to me, and tell me different stories about someone she knew there, or a story she had heard, or anything.

I watched old home videos of when I was little. I was stuck to her and her alone. We are 12 years apart. She was a teenager, basically, when I was born, and my brother was definitely a teenager, at 15-years-old. My sister basically raised me in the first few years of my life; I used to call her "Mommy-Nah." Even though she was annoyed at me, as little sisters are very annoying, she took care of me. When she graduated, left home for school and then moved out, my heart was broken. She had left me in the house, all alone. All the way up to middle school, when I would hear that she was leaving for a far away state, I would cry. She would write me or call me.

I miss my sister a lot. I miss my family a lot; family I hadn't even thought about. I cherish my parents whenever they come, and when they hug me goodbye, I always have a good cry later. We are each other's support groups.