I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I forgot how much I missed shopping with you. Finding you clothes that fit the preppy aesthetic we both liked, running to get you a different size and liking how much influence my approval had over the clothes you would get. It was very much an older sister, younger brother thing to do. Even when we got older, Mum would say you would take my opinion more to heart than hers. The very last Christmas we had together, you tried the clothes Mum and I bought for you. It all fit perfectly but you never got to wear them. I keep the jumper we bought you in London, at the bottom of my wardrobe. It’s too painful to see daily but also too precious to wear casually.

I got to go shopping with our cousins today and remembered how much I missed doing it with you. Truthfully, I haven’t gone clothes shopping with you in quite a long time. You found it quite tiring. But you’d still wear the things I bought you. Days before you passed, we took Mum shopping on Christmas Eve. We let her pick things at a Harry Potter shop before we took her to a clothes shop. She tried on stuff that both of us liked.

Waiting for her outside the changing room, I realised this was not something that we often did. Mainly because it was so hard for you. I turned to you and said, “This is what will make Mum really happy. Us shopping with her” and you agreed. But I could see how much of a toll it was taking on you. You had started using your phone, to distract yourself from how tired or distressed you actually were.

We had also talked about buying her a branded bag, something we would both contribute to. She’s not the type to spend that type of money on herself so we wanted to. But the bag we wanted was out of stock, so we put it off.

Mum hasn’t worn the clothes we bought that day. Shalini and I split the cost of the bag a few months ago, but I only gave it to Mum recently. It’s the last present I can give her that I know for a fact you liked. There’s been a lot of similarly painful things recently. I don’t know if it’s the fact that 9 months have passed or that we’re 3 months to the day you passed, but it often makes breathing feel like the hardest thing to do.

Our cousins picked t-shirts like what you would have liked. It made breathing easier.

Miss shopping with you. I’m not sure anyone else is as honest with me when I look fat.

Love,
Acca