I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I’ve decided I’m also starting it this way from now on.

You will be happy to know that we have finally managed to get Patta into an elderly exercise program! Can you believe it? I don’t think he’s particularly happy about it, and we run the risk of him upsetting the therapist, like he did yesterday…but at least it has started. I know you’re happy about this.

So when I was driving them to the appointment, I drove past the stadium where your primary school used to have your Annual Sports Meets. And another memory came to mind.

I think you were in Primary 2, so about 8 years old. You were a little bit of a sprinter, so somehow, you got selected for the 4 x 100 metres race. It was a rare thing in our family, given our lack of interest, and more, lack of ability when it comes to anything sports related, or anything physical for that matter. So I was quite excited, as were you.

I was sitting with Dad fairly close to the track and watching. I don’t remember which runner you were. I think you may have been the 2nd or 3rd. I was mainly worried you would drop the baton. But you didn’t. And it appeared that your team came first.

And then it all went to hell. You came running to the barrier close to where we were sitting, hysterically sobbing. You could hardly get your words out. Apparently, when running, you had accidentally crossed lanes, and so your team was disqualified.

I remember feeling so, so sad for you. And wondering what I could do to make it right. It was probably one of the first lessons I had as a parent. That we can’t control everything that comes in the paths of our children. And there will be many things we would just have to accept.

Though utterly disappointed, you recovered quickly.

This was nothing compared to the many disappointments you would eventually face. It was also nothing compared to how you would cope with future disappointments. Something we were always worried about. Even something like going to the hairdresser to get a new haircut or colour some part of your hair would worry us in your later years. A small matter like that (to us), would be something you just couldn’t cope with. That is how much life changed for you.

I still feel sad for that little boy who ran that race- pink, flushed cheeks, sweaty, hair matted, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

I’m sure you are as fit in heaven as you were when you left this earth. So I guess you’re sprinting all over the place now.

Love you darling,

Mum