FIRST ENTRY: Eve of my sixteenth birthday

20th March, 20??

Eve of my sixteenth birthday.

Dear Dia,

Can you believe it? We are together once more after five whole years. Uhm… I understand how you must be feeling now, I mean I would definitely feel the same if someone who considered me a close confidante pushed me away for five years.

You must understand, I had just lost the one person who loved me more than anything in this world, my mom. You should remember since we spent the last days with her, we kept her company, shared our secrets with her but it wasn't enough to keep her… here. I know it wasn't anyone's fault but the cruel hands of death who couldn't leave my mom for me.

She had died of the devil called "acute lymphoblastic leukemia". ALL for short. This bastard is a type of cancer in which the bone marrow makes too many lymphocytes (a type of white blood cell), it's symptoms are tiredness, fever, easy bruising, ear and nose bleeding with lots and loads of pain. Hers had been recurrent, the damn thing had gone into remission after the first treatment years ago. I think I was 6 then and because of that, she couldn't give me a sibling.

When the goddamned thing came back, she hid it from me and dad, not quite well though. I would sometimes go to her room and find her all bedded up with her temperature as high as the scorching sun. Or the times, her nose would start bleeding, even those rare moments her face would suddenly squeeze in with pain. Dad was hardly around and mom made me swear not to tell him about this things. She promised me that she was fine and I trusted her, besides I was 6 when it first happened so how was I supposed to know that the blasted thing was back.

If she would see me now, using such vulgar words, she would give me that 'mind-your-language' look and shake her head causing her blond curls to bounce. The night she was hospitalized was a trauma that has kept me awake at night for years now. She had started bleeding as we ate in the dining, first it was from her nose, then her ears and finally her nails. She had been oblivious until drops landed in the bowl of cereals she was having. I had tried to force her to eat real food but she had insisted on cereals.

I watched her raise her hand to touch her bleeding nose only to see her fingers bleeding too. And then, I heard it, that guttural scream that has haunted me ever since. She clutched her stomach as she screamed, smearing blood on her cream nightgown. I rushed to her side, tried to touch her but at my touch, she screamed more. Dad was away on a business trip and I didn't know what to do, mom frantically clutched every part of her body in fail attempts to reduce the pain. Mrs Jones, our nosy neighbor came banging on the door, apparently she heard the screams and never have I ever been more grateful for her nosiness as I was that night.

She called 911 and in a matter of minutes, sirens and red-blue flashes filled the night. Quivering like a drenched cat, I stood aside as they loaded mom in a stretcher admist her cries and screams. Almost at the door, I found my voice and my questions came out more like a shriek than words as I launched towards the stretcher.

"Where are you taking my mom? Is she going to be fine?"

It was Mrs Jones who responded, she told me that my mom would be fine and I could visit her the next day. I blatantly refused to sleep at her house while my mom slept in the hospital, so I stood my ground about staying wherever my mom was. Mom couldn't speak but she grabbed my hand and her eyes said it all… 'stay'.

Mom died three months later even with the best treatment. Chemotherapy. Radiation therapy. Immunotherapy. Nothing worked. I had known that she would die cause I browsed the hell out of the godforsaken ailment. There was no cure and the survival rate for an adult like her was about 30-40%. The doctors said that it was a miracle she had survived the first diagnosis and lived as long as she did after that.

I'm sorry, Dia for the tears I'm leaving on your pages but I hope you understand why I did what I did. Life without her has been hell and I hated myself for not keeping the promise I made to her on that last day we read year 11 Dia, to her. She made me promise to keep talking to you but I couldn't just form the words. Each time I tried, your pages end up soaked with tears.

It's my birthday tomorrow Dia, so I shouldn't be feeling as down as I am but each year is hard without her beside me, sometimes I wonder if I should be celebrating at all but dad and this bitch who's trying to be mom keeps throwing parties for me. I guess I will have to fake a smile and live through it yet again.

Goodnight Dia.