I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I think I’ll start my posts like that from now on, whenever they are written like letters to you. When I read the way Jess wrote her post, I really felt the sadness and love. Anyway, I already write most of my posts to you and end it with a “Love always, Sha”, so there’s really no reason not to “Dear Josh” it.

It’s been a tough couple of days. I think multiple things have been adding up and I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed again. It’s honestly no one’s fault but mine – I choose to pile too many things on my plate and regret it every couple of months. It also doesn’t help that I’m absolutely exhausted. Now I wake up earlier for internship and go to bed later because I have to catch up on schoolwork. My brain feels really fried. When I sit down to get work done, I’m operating on 50% of my usual cognitive capacity – which seriously irks me because I know I can do better or think faster. I’d imagine what you’d say, but I was never this stressed with you around. I still imagine what you’d say though, and take a moment to breathe – it helps sometimes.

On days like that where I am stressed, overwhelmed, and tired, I miss you more. I am sadder than usual. I think about everything more – especially the night of. I wrote about what happened right before and after I received the call, but now I’ll write about how I told people. I can’t recall at which point of the night or how many days later I told my friends, but I remember roughly what happened or went through my mind when I told the first person. Can you guess who I told first? Well, I think you know because you were probably watching me.

The first person I told was Lynn. It was past midnight – I can’t remember what time it was; I was so out of it – and I can’t even describe how I was feeling. Texts were coming in from my friends wishing me a “happy new year”, I think one came from Lynn too. She came to mind first, actually. When I got the news and my mind was racing all over, she was one of my thoughts. She’s one of our closest friends, and I felt for her. I didn’t know when and how I was to tell her that we’d lost you. I felt sorry – that I couldn’t help keep you around, that she has to now go through life with one less friend. I called her because I had to talk to someone who might understand. I had to tell someone so I wasn’t alone. Selfishly, I ruined her entire year (or longer) that night. I still feel sorry about this from time to time whenever I think about it. Why did I choose to call her and ruin her whole year? Should I have waited till a few days later? Maybe until the wake and funeral details were out? Would she have preferred to have at least had a good 1^st of January?

I remember picking up my phone, crawling over to the bathroom after telling my parents I have to call Lynn. My mum told me not to, “Don’t ruin her night! Why must you call her now?” I could hear the blame in her voice. She was upset that I was about to ruin Lynn’s night, but I really just had to get it out and mourn with someone. Again, I know that it was utterly selfish, but I think I could not have done it alone. I could not have gone through the whole night alone. I called her and I think I said, “hi Lynn” and she responded with the bubbliest voice, wishing me a “happy new year”. In that split second, I swear I almost decided against it. I almost wished her back. I almost mustered up a bubbly voice and wished her a “happy new year” from the both of us. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I told her the exact words I heard your sister say to me. And I think I had to repeat myself too because she, like me, could not process it the first time she heard it. Then I heard the change of tone as she also sobbed over the phone. I know I made the selfish decision here, and I am so sorry about it, but I also couldn’t imagine telling her a day later and having her find out that you were gone since before midnight.

I can’t remember the exact order of people I told after that. It was all a blur. I told our school friends in the group we have. The sweetest girl, who we’ve treated like a little sister, couldn’t reply. She only texted me a while after – again, my brain blocked out the timings. I think that’s when I knew she was affected too. I have come to realize that the ones who reply immediately with shock or surprise are funnily enough the least affected – you’d think they’d be concerned since they replied first, but that is often not the case. One of the sweetest texts in the days that followed also came from this “little sister” friend, L. Most people don’t know this, but I was friends with L before I was friends with you. We were out for lunch one day and you had just followed me on Instagram. On Instagram, she showed up as a mutual friend of ours. So, I asked her if she knew you and it was because she talked about how nice and kind you are that I decided you were someone I could befriend. For your birthday this year, she gave us matching batman keychains – you would have loved it.

After everyone important to us knew, I told my friends. I didn’t want to tell everyone immediately; I wanted to process it first. But part of me felt like I couldn’t hold back on telling them because they were all sending me nice “happy new year” texts and it was unlike me to not reply to my friends, so they’d likely know that something was up even if I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t bring myself to text them the news individually, so I used my “close friends” list on Instagram. That “close friends” list would be – and still is – my main mode of communication with them. On another note, Instagram really is our app, huh – it’s been with us since the beginning. I do miss my friends, but I can’t bring myself to hang out with them the way we used to. I can’t sit and have everyday conversations. I can’t listen to them complain or laugh about work or school. I can’t do everything I did and pretend my boyfriend did not pass on. I feel sorry, but I truly have not found the courage to see my friends. Messages came flooding in after they saw my story that night. Some tried to call me but I didn’t pick up. I didn’t know what to say. A few months ago, I had just posted about us on Instagram and these same groups of people excitedly congratulated me, sending us well wishes and “excited to meet him!” texts. What do I say to them now?

A day or so later, when the wake and funeral plans were out, I posted them on my story for our acquaintances – in the event they’d want to see you for the last time. Many of them sent beautiful messages about how great you are. I’ve seen these people at school too. Most of them don’t acknowledge me anymore – almost as if they’d catch some sadness if they make eye contact with me. It’s also been increasingly annoying to interact with our schoolmates for projects. I just know it’d be way easier if you were here. I bet you’re grumbling and rolling your eyes too.

Sorry for the long writing, Josh. Sorry that it’s a sad one too. My next one will be less sad, I promise. It was quite difficult to write this one. I think I’m having a difficult time. Are you still here? I’ve received the signs, I really have. It helps a lot. The dreams do too. Keep ‘em coming, yeah?

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha