The Boy Named Peter Pan

Introduction

As I sat on the cushion beneath the large window overlooking the empty streets below, I couldn't help but wonder what it was like back in the olden days; back when my grandmother was still young and naive, very much like me at this age. What could possibly be going through her mind as she sat at this very spot, staring up into the never ending patch of darkness in the sky with only the moon and a few twinkling stars to keep her company.

I wished I had gotten to know her when she was still alive. She seemed like a really sweet lady. At least, that was what I was able to infer from reading her diary entries. I know it was rude of me to pry into other people's belongings but I couldn't keep a tight hold of my curiosity. It kept nipping at me, luring me into turning the page. The first ever entry was dated back to 1940, almost a year after the second war was declared.

It says:

Dearest Diary,

It has been exactly a month since I'd last seen Peter. It would be a lie if I say that I don't miss being with him. Peter Pan was a sweet boy, as sweet as the honeyed dews that drip from the budding lotus-flower. He was not only a lover, but also my very best friend. It pains me to leave him and the lost boys but as much as I want to be with him, I can't. I couldn't bare to be separated from my family. The thought of not being able to see Mother and Father again was enough a reason to leave. I knew I'd hurt him. I could tell just by looking at his face.

The night that Peter brought me back, he had planted a soft kiss on my lips and told me that he want me to remember him even as I age.

I had promised him that I would never forget him, for as long as I lived, he'll always have a special place in my heart.

He smiled and with one final glance in my direction, disappeared into the night. That was the last time I had seen Peter Pan.

He'll forever remain alive in my memory, and in my dreams, we'll always be together.

The subsequent pages were just details of how my grandmother went about her life and the last entry was dated to the 10th of August 1950; the day that she got married to my grandfather.

I never really knew him either, other than the fact that he came from a wealthy family and a few years after my dad was born, he died of lung cancer.

Growing up, my dad wasn't exactly close to my grandmother either. He said that he didn't like that his own mother would sit beneath the window, just staring up at the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of 'Peter Pan'; the guy that she claims to have met and fell in love with.

"I thought that she was crazy." Dad used to say. "Peter Pan is just a fictional character in a children's book. He's not a real person. It's probably the sleep paralysis that made her hallucinate all those things."

In which my mom would reply, "Danny, that's not very nice. She's still your mother, you should start showing her some respect. And when are you planning on paying her a visit."

My dad huffed, "When I have the time." And went back to his computer.

That was one month before my grandmother passed away.

Now, filled with remorse and shame, my dad kept blaming himself for the death of his mother; my grandmother, even though her death was due to old age. He felt responsible for not being there with her as she drew her last breath.

My grandmother's dying wish was to donate all of her belongings to the orphanage, every last penny that she had went straight into the orphanage funds, I guess she had a thing for helping the lost or unwanted children.