I Swear You Will Be Fine

I hate looking at photos from before the week Josh passed. Exactly one week before. It was Christmas Eve. We genuinely had such a lovely time. It was just the 5 of us with our helper and dogs, and now I’m glad it was. It feels more sacred now, knowing that it was Josh’s last Christmas with us. He had chosen the colours for the Christmas tree this year and was so proud of how it looked that he had sent me a picture of it decorated. But, he still waiting for me to come back to put the star on. He tried so many different foods that night (which was unusual for Josh), smiled for pictures and liked all his presents. I know some people may say, weren’t these warning signs? But we had had so many nights like this, where he genuinely enjoyed spending time with us. So no alarm bells went off.

Then there were 2/3 dinners and lunches hosted by us or very close family friends. Again, he came and seemed ok. I took him home halfway during one, but no one thought it was a big deal. What 20-year-old wants to be around older people longer than necessary?

But we knew some part of Josh was struggling. He talked to my Mum and his psychologist about it. We could see it on his face on some days. On these days, we wouldn’t let him out of our sight. I didn’t even let him walk down to the gym by himself. The day he passed, he met me at the gym. He laughed as I failed miserably at whatever I was trying. Not one person at that gym looking at us would have known what was to come.

He had hurt himself quite badly. I remember my Mum telling me how bad it was. I actively tried to avoid looking at the scars. Mum told me that I was going to see it at some point. In the end, I never did. Frankly, I’m glad. That won’t be how I remember Josh.

And yet, in the days before he passed, my twenty-year-old brother asked my grandmother for permission to get a tattoo of his dogs. This was after having been granted my mother’s permission after one year of asking. He contacted the tattoo artist the next day and told me how he would likely get it in February. With everything going on in his head, he still asked his grandma.

We all replay that week constantly, trying to work out what we didn’t see. Why it happened that particular week, instead of the other bad ones over the last 10 years? Leaving you at home that night instead of forcing you to come with me, or staying with you, will always be my biggest regret. At some point, when I have accepted that you’re happier and safer where you are now, maybe it won’t be a regret anymore.

It’s Josh’s 21st birthday this week. We’ve gone through all of our birthdays without Josh already. None of them were easy. But thinking about Josh’s birthday makes me slightly nauseous. On the flip side, I like to think he’s sending us things/people to get us through it. We have so many family and loved ones coming to hold our hands through it. It still feels like some awful, parallel reality that shouldn’t exist. We shouldn’t have to celebrate my little brother’s 21st birthday without him.

But we’ll try. We’ll order Mcdonalds’ in the morning like we usually do on birthdays and watch Superman like Josh had already told us he wanted to. We’ll have his friends home like he always did and order pizza and brownies. Josh didn’t like massive parties and loud music (like his sister does), so we won’t do that. And we’re not aiming to just get through his birthday. We’re aiming to celebrate him.