April 1, 1962
For the first time in my life I have been really, really sad. It is the biggest sorrow I have ever had. I am a little better now, but it still shocked me very much. My dearest friend, and the boy I loved most, Frits, died on March 19.
On Monday morning at half past five, Aunt Trijntje came in through the back door and said in her loud voice, “Do you know who died? Fritsje Burggraeve!”
I was so shocked that I dropped the breakfast plates I was carrying from the kitchen to the table. I could hardly believe it. Frits dead? My Frits dead?
Mama was shocked too. Dear, handsome, sweet Frits. He was my very best friend. I had known him ever since first grade. Back then everyone always teased us and said we were going steady.
When he was still alive, I was always so happy whenever I saw him. I loved him very much, and I think he liked me too. Once we even kissed.
And now he is dead.
It happened so suddenly that nobody can believe it when they hear about it. Frits, Frits, Frits… I cannot write anymore now.