I Swear You Will Be Fine

Josh and I grew up Christian. I’m quite certain we both had plans to baptise our children even though neither of us are active churchgoers. It was one of those things that always made me feel close to my brother. Our shared principles. We recognised the importance of religion in our lives, especially as we grew up not particularly attached to our Sri Lankan heritage, but fundamentally disagreed with a lot of the more conservative values. I don’t remember us ever having had a proper discussion about it, but it was one of the few things we were always on the same page about. I like thinking that we came to the same conclusions without needing to talk about it.

I have never been so pissed off at God. I used to say that I acknowledged the lack of proof of Christ, but that I needed someone to blame when things went wrong. Josh backed this further, by bringing up how religion was often used as a coping mechanism. I’m beginning to think God’s taking the piss. I can fully imagine Josh laughing and saying,”Jeez Jess, don’t push it.”

But I am genuinely so angry. I’m so so angry that I need to grieve over my brother. That my mum needs to learn how to live life without her son. That Shalini won’t get more time with him. That my grandparents have lost their only grandson. Jesus had like 6 siblings and only died when he was 33. Why did Jesus’ siblings get other brothers and sisters to cry with? Even Mary got more time with her son that Josh did with Mum. I sound slightly deranged comparing my incredibly mortal family to God. But it pisses me off so much.

I know I sound like I’m asking for lightning to strike me. But I think part of me doesn’t care anymore. It means that when I go up (assuming I go up), I can have a long-awaited argument with God. I have quite a long list of grievances I need to hear the rationale behind, starting with why my little brother was given such a horrible illness and died so young because of it. At some point I’ll have to ask why we couldn’t have been given a more stable father. Some honourable mentions will include the inappropriate comments family/friends have made or the absolutely idiotic law enforcement we had to deal with.

Josh wasn’t even a bad kid. He was good. He prayed every night. He did the family prayer at Christmas Eve and every time one of us was flying. I think Josh took stock of his life at 17, like I’m doing now. I think he looked at the cards God had dealt him and thought “Ok, what here is in my control?” So he lost weight and aced university and made lovely friends. Of course I’m speculating, but I think towards the end, Josh knew he had done everything he could. There wasn’t anything that needed to be punished. And for that, I’m so so angry at God. What more could Josh have done?

If my brother were here, I know what he would be thinking. Stop complaining and do something about it Jess. I don’t think Josh believed in self pity. I think he wouldn’t approve of us wallowing. So I’m hoping that when I’m doing things that other 24-year-olds do, Josh won’t be pissed at me. I’m trying to mimic what Josh did by exercising and studying and being disciplined, although to a far lesser extent. At least then when I go up and see him, I can say, “Look, I tried.” Definitely not as hard as he did, but enough that anger isn’t the first thing I feel when I think of him. Unless, of course, I’m annoyed at him for making me exercise more than I ever wanted to.

I know my relationship with God has changed, but I’m not sure how. I know I still believe in God because the night Josh passed, I prayed. I think I have to believe in God now because if not, I may not see Joshua again. And that’s not an option. Heaven has to exist because I need to know that older family members who have passed are looking after him until we can.

I know my brother believed in God, so I really hope God is looking after him now. I like to think Josh is finally pain free and content, something he was denied on earth. Hopefully he’s arguing with God over the bits we disagreed with in the bible.

Love, Jess