Most of you will know Peter Pan, the character. Some of you know Peter Pan, my friend. He with the vast toy collection and a deep love for Lego, who would send me pictures when he completes a set. He’s also a Star Wars fan, and very generously gifted a Darth Vader mask to Son, a fellow aficionado. In return, Son played The Imperial March, theme song of the series on the piano, which I recorded as a present last Christmas. An unlikely friendship in the making, despite almost four decades between them.

Peter Pan has a medical condition that means he could leave this world any moment. It was diagnosed a few years ago and he has stopped working since. It is very easy to, but I am determined never to view him through this light, and not to allow himself to do so, as much as possible. But if you know him, you’ll know he has his own will!

I joined The Firm almost ten years ago, when I could still pass as a SYT – ok, just about..! For some reasons, it was not sweetness that I projected. As I found out years later, I could easily come across, initially that is, as aloof, “atas” and err.. intimidating. Peter Pan was not the least bit put off though. On my first day, he approached me at my desk – the first person to do so – and offered me a biscuit. I ought to provide some background at this juncture. I was hired by The Firm to set up a new business unit in Asia Pacific so there was no team to start my new job into. My then boss was based in Europe. So it was me and me. I wasn’t bothered, as I had been in a serviced office for eight months prior as my previous employer figured out their game plan for Asia. Me and me in a sea of people was a vast improvement on me and four walls. Maybe I had been working alone for too long, I hadn’t expected that someone would bounce up to me to offer a biscuit on my first day. He also informed me somewhat gleefully that he had read my CV, and that we had attended the same junior college. It was a warm and unique gesture of welcome, as only he could do, and an abiding memory.

Peter Pan has his quirks as you would expect from er, Peter Pan. He wears a bow tie! He doesn’t eat vegetables. He permed his salt and pepper hair! He loves fashion. And his parents. I’m often touched by how devoted he is to his parents. Waking up multiple times at night to accompany his father to the toilet to make sure he wouldn’t fall, when his father wasn’t well. Taking his mother to vacations, and the doctor’s, with equal commitment. I don’t know a more filial son.

Our friendship was built over many lunches over many years, usually with Equally Fierce and Little Sparrow. Equally Fierce occupies a senior position in The Firm too. She often says I’m fierce, but everyone would rise in a chorus to remind her she’s equally fierce, so there you go! Little Sparrow has flown to London. I’ve always advocated to her that new experiences are an integral part of the adventure that is Life, so I’m glad she’s decided to swap raintrees for oak trees. Oh, happy birthday, Little Sparrow!

Lunch is now just the three of us, mostly. I look forward to each one. I know it hasn’t been easy on Peter Pan, living with the constant threat of life being taken away from him, without warning. Not being able to take simple things like swimming and running for granted. Listening to his friends’ clumsy attempts at comforting and supporting, never quite succeeding. Finding peace with one’s mortality is probably the most difficult journey one has to take, and take alone. No matter how  hard others try, the empathy can never be complete. I know there are times when he despairs, and wonders why God has played such a cruel joke on him. But mostly, he has been brave. Very. And lunch with him is fun. Always.

Peter Pan, if you’re reading this, know that lunch with you is a highlight I’ll never want to miss. Who else will share with me the regret that is Maggie Cheung? Who will remind me that Takashimaya or Robinson or Metro is having a sale, and offer to replenish my cosmetics arsenal for me? Every time I see you, I see your searing humour, your outrageous political incorrectness, your unmatchable gossips, your devotion, your generosity, your friendship, you. Not your condition. You.

We love you. But you know that already. So, when’s our next lunch?