When I was 12 years old, my parents got divorced.

I understood their divorce was an inevitable decision. I believed they should not stay together if they were so unhappy with each other. Or, at least that was the logic I adopted in order to cope with the situation.

Still, the fact of a disbanding family was hard for me to deal with. I was worried that I may need to change schools or even live away from my mom.

I didn’t want my life to change dramatically. I was leading a pretty good life then. I loved my house. I loved my dog, my school and my neighbourhood.

Being unable to hold a family together was considered shameful, a disgrace, in Japan in the 1990s. I needed to talk to somebody to tell what has been going on with my family.

Fortunately, my close friend Tamaki was there for me.

Tamaki and I were living in the same neighbourhood. I was outgoing and spoke my mind out, while she was a sweet and reserved girl. Yet we both liked the same mangas, and we often visited each other’s houses to read them together. She was living with her father and an older brother. She had told me one time that her mother has been hospitalized for a very long time.

While I was telling her my story, she listened to me very attentively. After I finished, she brought me a cup of tea.

I felt ashamed to reveal that my parents have not been in a good relationship for long. But she didn’t care, she was only concerned about me.

The following day, I received a letter from Tamaki.

“Thank you for coming over to my place. I hope we can play together again. I am very sorry to hear about your parents’ divorce. I feel it’s very unfair they are giving you such a hard time.

I hope you are not sent to another school. Please let me know if that is what they are planning. I will beg your parents to let you stay in our school until our graduation.

I put 5000 yen in the envelope for you to get anything you like. Sweets, books, whatever.  You don’t have to give it back.

You can come over to my place for dinner whenever you like. I am not a great chef but I  will cook something special for you.”

I put the letter down and cried a lot. Not only I was touched by her kind offer but also I felt a great relief that there is someone who could sympathize with me. I realized that I have been suffering for some time because I couldn’t talk about this to any of my family or relatives. Mom would always be the first person I would talk to about anything that bothered me. But obviously, I couldn’t talk about their divorce with her. And my sister was only 6 years old. Back then, there were no such things as school counsellors. The divorce rate in Japan in the early 90s was still quite low, so I thought most of my friends could not understand what I was going through.

One time I even called a suicide prevention hotline, but the person who took my call was awfully pathetic. (Even to this day, I wonder how that person ever got that job.)

I wrote back a letter to Tamaki and thanked her for her kindness.

Fortunately, my mom took custody of us so that I could continue at the same elementary school with Tamaki and we went to a junior high school together.

A quarter-century later, I still get quite emotional when I remember the kindness and friendship 12-year-old Tamaki has shown me. Somehow we became estranged over the years but I still keep her letter. If I had a child one day, I would like to raise him or her to be just like Tamaki.