I Swear You Will Be Fine

There is no one I competed with more than my brother. We were raised in a family that taught us if we didn’t achieve a goal, it was only because we didn’t work hard enough. There was never any question about ability. This likely contributed to both Josh and my inflated sense of ego, but also an unrelenting desire to excel.

Easter Sunday was typically an excellent example of this. Most families enjoy a calm and relaxed easter egg hunt before church. It was our annual reenactment of World War 2. We shoved, poked and outran each other. I’d like to say we outgrew this in our teenage years but that would be a lie. The innate sense of competitiveness in both of us was only exemplified by the fact that I didn’t eat chocolate, and neither did Josh in his later teenage years. The bragging rights were sufficient to motivate us.

Although we haven’t spent Easter together in a couple years, Josh would make sure to send me easter eggs even when I was at university. They were really on behalf of my family at home, but as Josh was the most technologically adept, he was in charge of sending them. I would do anything to get an Amazon package with chocolates I wouldn’t eat from him today.

We competed in school, sports and (especially) for our family’s affection. But there was no one who celebrated my wins more than my brother. It was Josh who came in announcing that I had gotten into medical school. It was Josh on the phone when I found out I received a scholarship. It was Josh who was supportive when I had made the slightest dent in losing weight. It feels so selfish to wish he was here just to cheer me on, but I do.

It also makes me regret so much. I was angry at Josh last year because he wouldn’t stay up to watch my graduation ceremony. My grandparents and helper were getting up at 2am to support me, and my only brother said he couldn’t because he had university the next day. It’s only now that I know from his girlfriend that he talked about my graduation the whole week to his classmates. As soon as he woke up, he watched the ceremony on youtube and called me.

I feel like I was angry at him for so many small, stupid things now. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could tell him how proud I am that he did so, so well at Uni (better than any of us). That he achieved what no other family member could by losing an insane amount of weight (I will now admit he was the fitter sibling). That he found lovely friends and a girlfriend who still check up on us and loved him so much. Above all, I wish I could tell him thank you for trying so hard with his illness because we still got 20 years with him.

It’s not enough. It goes without saying, the twenty years weren’t enough. There are still so many more things I want to compete with you for. I want to see which of one us gets more degrees. I want to know who gets married first. I want to know who gives Mum grandkids first. I don’t want to be the only one competing. But I know, it was never an even playing field. For the last 10 years, you played with a massive handicap – and yet, you still often won.

It feels like the last prank Josh can play on me. I can almost imagine him saying, “Try living up to me now, Jess”. We would so openly argue about who was each grandparent’s favourite. There’s no one to argue with anymore. It makes me want to stop trying. But every message I’ve found in cards you’ve every written to me tells me you believe in me. I really hope you know I believed in you too. When I see you again, I will scream at you. Do you know how hard it is to be the grandchild left? I promise, you have secured your place as the favourite. It’s quite difficult to compete with you now Josh. I’ll give you this one.

I can’t wait for the five of us to be together again. I miss competing with you.

Love, Jess