I Swear You Will Be Fine

I’m not sure how we got here. More than two-thirds of the year are over, which means it’s nearly been a year since Josh was here. Grief is weird. I’ve probably thought about Josh more in the last 8 months than I did when he was here. When you think about someone that much, it’s easy to forget that they aren’t here anymore. I think that’s especially true when you’re somewhere that you don’t typically associate with the person. Like London. Josh never lived here, but he visited the UK many times. A lot of these visits were less than easy.

It’s not that he didn’t like England. I know he liked the concerts and culture and education. But for some reason, so many of his trips didn’t go well. Prior to 10 years ago, most of the trips were great. Josh had a lovely time at weddings of beloved aunts and was frankly happier than most kids. He was so fun to be around when he was little. He’d dance, be cheeky and embrace being the centre of attention.

We came to the UK 10 years ago, and it was the first time in a while that we were in forced proximity with our father. We realised hours into the trip that this wasn’t a typical argument, and the rest of the holiday was life-changing. Our father’s moods were erratic, angry most of the time and with the potential to turn violent constantly lurking. Josh was only 10. I think even at that age, he knew things would never go back to how they were.

When I got into university, it was Josh who told me. He would track my UCAS with my login and password (which I gave him) and would check for a possible every day. The day we found out, Josh was so, so excited. Later in the day, he asked if he could come to London as well. The bitch I am, I told him to stop making it about himself for once. When I complained to my mum, she reminded me how happy he really was for me. Of course he would want to be part of it.

He visited me four time while I was at university. Twice for a concert and my 21st birthday. The other two times ended in complete disaster. I still don’t know what it was. He liked England, but maybe the travel or exhaustion was too much for me. There were massive fights where I said things I would give anything to take back now. I hope he knows I didn’t mean them. But there was something about England that didn’t sit right. I don’t know if it’s because London had become a bit of a refuge for me, and Josh could sense that it threw me off. I loved my brother so much, but I would be lying if I said he didn’t stress me out. Sibling fights are always tricky, but it gets to a new level when one of you had BPD and the other a hot temper.

The idea of him coming in the last year had been brought up. But Josh didn’t push it, and neither did I. I think he was scarred to undo his progress by having another difficult trip, and I didn’t want to risk another argument took a toll on all of us. One of the last things I remember him saying to my grandfather was that he was considering doing a Master’s degree at Oxbridge. I kept quiet, but I didn’t know how he would do it.

The series of unfortunate events in the UK wasn’t because of the country or the people. It was just another thing that Josh (and us) lost to the BPD. It stopped him from doing so much. If Josh were well, I think we would have gone for many more concerts. I would have taken him out with my flatmates and sneaked him drinks for a taste of university. I wouldn’t be worried about arguing with him or leaving him alone. And he would have been able to enjoy London for what it is. Cuz Josh would have loved it.

I still love London. I go for any concert or play I can. I love the vibe and meeting people I never would have otherwise. But I’m hoping that Josh is doing it with me. And without the BPD, he’s actually enjoying it.

Love, Jess