I Swear You Will Be Fine

Recently, I stumbled upon a song titled “Vincent” by Don McLean. It is one that deviates from the songs I typically listen to, so I didn’t expect myself to like it as much as I do. Though I think, Josh, if you heard it too, you’d fancy it quite a bit. As with every song I listen to since the middle of last year, the lyrics made me think of you. Here are snippets from the song:

“Now I understand,
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they’ll listen now”

“And when no hope was left in sight on that starry, starry night
You took your life, as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you”

The part where McLean sings “But I could have told you, Vincent. This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you” stood out to me. McLean had written this song as a tribute for Vincent Van Gogh and his struggle with mental illness. A few days after you passed, I was thinking about the unfairness of it all – how you are the smartest, kindest, sweetest person I know, and life was terribly unkind to you. I couldn’t comprehend the inequality and atrocity of it all. How could the world be so horrible? That’s when the thought struck me: maybe this world is too cruel for someone as good as you. I remember saying the same to your mum – that you are too good for this world. This thought lingered at the back of my mind and this song, specifically that line, brought it back to the surface. The world must be too harsh for beautiful souls like yours. The kindest people suffer the worst fates… how awful, isn’t it?

When we first started being friends and you told me how you’d help others with their work even though they were unappreciative and unkind to you, I told you I needed to wrap you in bubble wrap to protect you. You laughed and said you’ll do the same for me too – and we did. We lived in our own world surrounded by bubble wrap, standing up for each other whenever necessary.

You have always been terribly kind to strangers. There was once we were on the train home and standing face-to-face, talking and laughing. We must have looked too happy because an older lady approached us and started reprimanding us for not standing properly (we were standing perfectly well and fine). You kindly lowered yourself to her height and stood there listening to her ramble, and she kept going on for minutes before I told her to get out of the train (my exact words were “go, you have to go now”). She left our side but stood outside the train continuing her little unwarranted spiel and I shushed her before the train door closed. You turned to me again and we burst out laughing. You explained how you were hearing her out because she’s older and I told you how you were being too kind, and you said thank goodness I was around to stop her.

There was another time we were walking the dogs around your place when a couple of children came over politely asking to pet the dogs and you agreed. One girl wanted to pick Cadbury up, and I could tell that you weren’t comfortable with that idea. Instead of outrightly saying “No, thank you”, you gently said, “Oh, you gotta be careful with him”. I looked at you, confused, because I knew how you felt about others picking the dogs up – and you gave me a look that confirmed my suspicions. The girl proceeded to awkwardly pick Cadbury up and you were visibly wincing because you could also see how uncomfortable it was making Cadbury. After the kids left, I asked why you didn’t stop her. You said you thought “be careful” equated to a “no”, and that you felt bad saying the word “no” because it was a child. Then you added, “Gosh, I hope we don’t bump into her again, so she won’t ask to carry him.” I told you not to worry because I’ll gladly say no if you’re uncomfortable with it (it’s a boundary and children could benefit from learning how to respect boundaries). The next time we walked the dogs, the girl approached us again and asked to carry Cadbury. You hesitated and looked at me for help. I immediately said, “No please. But thank you for asking!” and she nodded, petted Cadbury and Knight for a while, and left. I remember you thanking me for saying “no” and heaved a sigh of relief. I thought it was adorable that you couldn’t reject strangers yet had no trouble standing up to people closer to us. It is a trait of yours I strongly admire; one I am still learning to acquire (I fear I still struggle with that. Even tougher now that you can’t stand up for me).

Your kindest repeatedly shone through despite the unkindness you received from life. It was like you knew how it felt to be treated unkindly, so you tried your best to be kind to everyone around you (that is not to say you weren’t surrounded by the kindest family and friends though). In our world, we worked as a team, up against the cruelties of the world. My dearest, if love alone was able to shield you from the horrors of life, maybe then you would be as happy as we wanted you to be. It wasn’t about what you didn’t have – love you had plenty – it was about what you couldn’t escape. We have no doubt that you are happy now, and it gives us much comfort knowing that. I like to picture you someplace where the world can’t hurt a beautiful soul like yours. Somewhere quiet, peaceful, loving, and soft… where you can happily do everything you enjoy. I hope this is the worst version of the world and that in other versions, we are able to continue living – together and happily.

Until we meet again in those other worlds where happiness surrounds us, I’ll keep your values and traits with me. Can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha