Dear Wafa...

Fifteen

I know I haven't written to you for so long... I wanted to, believe me, but I was held back by fear. I was afraid of hurting people who have already been in lots of pain, afraid of opening wounds that haven't even healed yet.

You see, two months ago, on the tenth anniversary of your departure, I had a long conversation with your sister. I told her that I have been writing to you here, and she read this book. And she told your mom about it because she felt that she had to read it too. And then we had a kind of virtual crying contest over the phone. We remembered all the good times we had spent with you, and laughed, and cried even more because we missed you. We never wanted those moments to end. We never had enough of you.

Somehow, the fact that it was already ten years bothered us a lot. Because ten is a big number- it's a two-digit number. It makes a big gap. A big, sad gap. I wanted to call your mom but I didn't have the courage to. Because the next second, we will both start crying over the phone and I felt like she was already in so much pain that it's not fair of me to make her cry even more.

That night, I went for some grocery shopping (because I have been crying a lot and wanted some fresh air) and I saw at the counter a flyer: Make a Wish Foundation. For kids with cancer, of course. The store claimed to spend a dirham for every dirham we donated to the charity. I told my husband we had to make a donation too. He was skeptical of the organization as we have never heard of it before. He said that it's better we donate to some charity that we can trust. But I insisted. Because, one, it's for kids with cancer. Two, it was the tenth anniversary of your departure. I wanted to do it then, that day. Because it made a huge difference to me.

PS: One of our juniors at school have been diagnosed with cancer. I don't know whether you remember him. He's barely twenty. I hope he recovers with Allah's help.