Diary Monologue: November 6th, An Unforgettable Day

If I start writing now, will I make it in time for today?

I am someone who never remembers anniversaries or important dates, yet for some reason, this one day is the only one I have never forgotten, even after decades.

It was the day of the first-term closing ceremony in my first year of junior high school. S-kun, the biggest troublemaker in the class but also the most popular, said to me before the final class meeting before summer break,

"See ya."

He packed his things with a smile and started to leave. As the class representative, I scolded him, saying, "You can't leave! You have to listen to the teacher until the very end!"

"My bad! I'm going to be hospitalized starting now, and if I don't go, I won't make it in time." "Wait, hospitalized? What's wrong?" "Oh, it's nothing, just a cold that got worse. See you at the start of the new term."

That smile has flashed through my mind vividly many times since this morning. That was the last time I saw S-kun alive. No, that's a lie. I did go to visit him once on behalf of the class. But I have no memory of it. The S-kun in my mind is the one who left the classroom with a smile.

Even when the new term began, the seat in front of me remained empty.

November 6th

The homeroom teacher announced his death. The entire classroom mourned him, and the sound of crying echoed all the way to the hallway. Some female students even collapsed. At that time, I was the only girl who couldn't cry. I don't know why I couldn't, even though I was usually a crybaby. The boys teased me, saying, "There's one weirdo here."

On the day of the funeral, I was chosen to read the eulogy on behalf of the entire student body. During the preparations, I saw S-kun for the first time since he had passed away. He looked much taller and more mature as he slept than he had on that closing ceremony day. He didn't look like someone who had suffered from a serious illness at all. His mother pulled back the white sheet and said, "Look at him, he grew up, didn't he?" showing me with red, teary eyes, trying to be brave. "Thank you for playing with him so much." "..." It was only then that I finally cried; I sobbed uncontrollably. My mentor, the Japanese teacher, ran over, worried, and asked, "Can you read the eulogy?" I cried so hard he had to hold me. I read the farewell words to S-kun while stifling my sobs, but I have almost no memory of it.

The S-kun that remains in my memory is only the one who smiled and said, "See ya," and "See you at the start of the new term."

Hodgkin lymphoma. That was the name of the disease that struck him when he was 12. I wonder if it's a curable disease now. He rests in the cemetery of the temple where we used to play "Red Light, Green Light" and "Kick the Can" when we were in elementary school.

It has started to rain heavily. Maybe that's why I remembered.