I Swear You Will Be Fine

Josh and I grew up very spoilt. It’s just a fact. Whether you want to call it showered with love or spoilt rotten, for us, it resulted in the same thing. Endless choices for food. When you add in a grandmother and mum who are fantastic cooks plus a lovely helper, we could literally ask for anything. With Josh, this was quite the blessing. He was the definition of picky. I’ll never miss an opportunity to embarrass my younger brother, so let me walk you through his food adventures (or lack thereof).

As a kid, Josh ate two things – chicken nuggets and rice. Not fries/chips, but always white rice. It became so commonplace that when we went to our grandparents’ club for family lunch, they stopped asking Josh what he wanted. It probably also helped that he was fairly endearing and cute, especially as a child.

The habit of only eating singular items from extensive menus continued. At our regular Indian restaurant, Josh would forever get Chicken 65 and white rice. Any Chinese restaurant we went to would have to have Ha Kao (prawn dumplings) and white rice. He loved his rice, but his absolute favourite was Mcdonald’s. Either chicken nuggets and fries or a McChicken without mayo and lettuce with cheese. He knew what he liked.

No vegetables. Apart from cucumber sticks and broccoli, he ate no vegetables. I remember everyone trying various techniques to get him his 5-a-day. Frankly, I’m not one to talk. If Josh were here, he would very quickly bring up my refusal to eat any fruit. Josh managed to grow out of his ‘chosen allergy’, expanding to cherry tomatoes and salad leaves. I did not.

There weren’t many things we both liked, but the ones we did we loved. The cereal prawns at our neighbourhood Chinese restaurants, chocolate milkshakes at the club and our grandma’s curries. On his 18th birthday, he had his first alcoholic drink with us. A few sips in, he swapped it in for a milkshake. We had seen our father’s behaviour with alcohol, and mimicking it was something Josh refused to risk.

When Josh got older, the food became a reflection of his discipline and motivation to lose weight. Nothing was fried, everything was calorie-counted and lacked edibility. At the beginning, he had mounds of beef to ensure he had sufficient protein. This eventually changed to butter chicken or wraps that my grandma and helper carefully prepare daily. His salads consisted of the aforementioned vegetables with zero dressing or cheese. When he first made his chocolate protein brownie, Mum and I got so excited. It looks very edible, was low in calories and was yum, according to my brother. I couldn’t stomach a teaspoon. Even his beloved ice cream machine which made low calorie options Josh ate by the pint, I frankly refuse to believe it was tasty. But Josh isn’t here to defend himself, so I’ll argue his side by stating that I saw my brother happily eat several pints a day for years and maintain his abs.

The last trip we took as a family was to Japan. Josh had started the healthy lifestyle by then, but ‘healthy + picky’ did not go well in Japan. We were too old to outright yell at each other, but I clearly didn’t hide my irritation well. Josh knew I was pissed off, to the point that he said to my mum he had to expand his eating when he went home. Now, I would gladly eat McDonald’s or any flavour-and-calorie deficient food for the rest of my life if it meant I could eat with him again.

The night he passed, I realised that all his dishes were left by the sink. He had eaten the entire meal and left the dishes to be washed up later. I wish we had forced him to indulge in the foods he loved before he passed. The next day, we all stared at the food that had been prepared in advance in the fridge. I took pictures of it like a lunatic. How am I meant to explain to my future kids what a weirdo their uncle was without proof?

I needed to have all this written down, because I’m so scared I will forget. I had a weird feeling the other day, and realised it was because I haven’t spoken to Josh in a while. I had to remind myself that this while is only going to get longer. Watching my mum and grandma desperately try to feed Josh taught me how difficult a picky eater for a child was. I so badly hope any future sons of mine are picky eaters too. At least I know they’ll like chicken nuggets and rice.