I Swear You Will Be Fine

For the first 18 years of my life, Josh felt like my other half. Definitely not my better half, but we were tied together in most things. We started school together by going to the same kindergarten. We ended school together by going to the same secondary school/junior college. I sat behind Josh while he had piano class, until he was done and we swapped places. For tennis lessons, I would play for the first 30 minutes while Josh picked up the balls, after which we swapped places.

If it was my birthday, Josh got a present too (vice versa applied). When one of us blew out the candles, the other was standing right next to us. There isn’t a single birthday where we don’t have a picture of the two of us with the cake. It was just part and parcel – if you got one of us, you got the other.

I think it was always meant to be like that. Even the way our Mum named us was the same – Christian first name starting with J, Tamil second name starting with S and the same surname. We signed our names the same way until the end. We began to joke that with both of us starting research, you wouldn’t be able to tell whose work it was. Josh passed before either of our names were on anything.

It was rare to ever hear someone say ‘Jess’ without ‘and Josh’ following it. Because we were the first grandchildren, as well as niece and nephew, for most, we were even more inextricable from each other. My Mum has a younger brother too, so it only made sense that she had a girl and then a boy too. It was quite nice to be the first – there are so many pictures of everyone treating us like God’s gifts to earth (which explains a lot about our personalities). It also meant that presents always came in two. My grandparents made sure that I opened my pink Nintendo at the same time as Josh opening his black one. Part of me hopes that all those people who watched us grow up recognise and feel how wrong it is. That we’re grieving a child who was just becoming an adult.

After I started university, Josh stepped up at home. I didn’t have to tell him to help my Grandad – he would do it and tell me to walk ahead. We were so close to our mum and grandparents that I think we became thirds and fifths. Our immediate family unit was made up of thirds – Josh, Mum and me. Since Josh was so much taller than either of us and Mum is constantly mistaken for my sister, we passed for siblings. We were/are so close to our Mum, if often didn’t feel like we were talking to someone a generation older than us. She’s the first person we called whether it was good or bad news. Our Mum has always been our favourite person. This never changed for me nor Josh. We had designated roles between the three of us – it feels wrong for Mum and I to try and balance out now. We’re missing a third.

Our grandparents are our only blood relatives in Singapore, and raised us like their own children. In many ways, I think we were their second daughter and son. We definitely saw them as second parents. I don’t think we even really saw them as non-immediate family. They are the people who looked after us throughout childhood and adulthood. As horrifying as their own grief is, I still know they (and Mum) are only interested in what is best for me. I know Josh felt the same. They miss him like parents would miss their son.

We’re lucky that we have so many pictures of us. As halves, thirds and fifths. Our grandma would insist on celebrating every birthday and anniversary. There are pictures where I know Josh and I are smiling through gritted teeth. But I’m glad we had them. We had our extension pack – the two dogs, our beloved helper, my grandma’s best friend/surrogate godmother. Shalini was becoming part of this too. But still – I think of Josh as my half.

There’s a gaping hole now – in the pictures, in our lives and in our hearts. Even if we regain some sense of normalcy, we will never be complete again. Who else will roll his eyes with me when Ammamma says something weird? Or laugh at one of Patta’s corny jokes? I don’t have my brother to look at when Mum is being blur. Or to ask if I look good before I leave the house. Or to calm me down when Mum is already asleep. I keep trying to accept it, but I can’t.

So personally, I would really appreciate if everyone still refers to us as Jess and Josh. Because I can’t accept it if people don’t recognise that my brother was here. And in many ways, still is here. He’s not in the pictures anymore, but he’s still in our thoughts and feelings. All the time. I think of myself as Josh’s sister first. And everything else second.