Dear Jo,
Remember the time you asked me the meaning of the word-memoir. We were just a bunch of ten year olds back then. Your hazel eyes were sparkling when you looked at me. I puffed up my little chest and with an air of knowledge said, “ A memoir is a basically a collection of memories of a person written by him/her..….” Isn’t it amazing that I still remember those words now? Obviously you believed me wholeheartedly and said, “Will this day become a memory too? And if it does will you write it down?” I laughed and said,” why me? Even you could write it down. We’ll call it ‘The Great Book of Memories, oh it’s going to be so much fun!!”. But alas! Writing never interested you but still you said,” yeah, ok I’ll try….”,and we went back to drawing kites floating in the bright blue (rather too blue to be true) sky………..
A day or two later I think, I told you that I’ll be away for two months. Father had work and decided to take all of us to London. You were clearly disappointed when you heard this. You said that you had no one else to talk to. I tried comforting you but instead you became angry and pushed me away. I too was hurt and angry. We did not talk to each other that day. Remember, later in the evening you came and gave me a scrap book? You made me promise to write in it every day, so that the book can become a memoir. Then you said you were sorry and asked me to come and play with you. We resumed our cardboard box game…………..
After two months I returned with my bag full of chocolates and pictures for you .I went inside the class only to find your chair empty. The other children were looking at me strangely, as if they knew something. But I did not pay much attention to them. People looked at us strangely at all times. Presently our teacher came in and started taking our attendance. I was very much surprised when she did not call your name. After the class was over I ran after her, and asked about you. She looked at me gravely, probably not knowing what to say. She knelt down and gently patted me on the shoulder. I could see a hint of tears in her eyes. Then as gently as possible she broke the news to me. ”Jo’s gone. He’s no more.” I looked at her and asked softly, “you mean he’s dead?”. “he was hit by a car. He held on for so long but......”She was crying now. Oh, but what a thunderclap these words were to me! I thought that it’s not possible, that you were too young to die. I thought about our promise to write about our memories. But it was all over now and I didnt even had a chance to say goodbye………..
A few years later, while I was busy dusting my shelf and trunks I found your scrapbook. I flipped across the pages only to find your scribble mentioning each day of your life. As I read along I came across the part where you said that I was the only friend that you ever had and that you were very proud of me. You described all the moments we shared and suddenly my eyes were filled with tears. But I was smiling at your childish scribbles. Oh, the great irony of life! While ten years is a really short time, but in that short time you taught me many things. You taught me the value of life, love and friendship. And most importantly you inspired me to write. You really were a one of a kind friend. Infact you still are, and wherever you are, I hope you are happy, and I’ll keep looking for you.
Yours lovingly,
Ann