I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

Everyday I feel like I get more glimpses into just a fraction of the feelings you must have experienced.

In the most recent podcast by Shalini and Lynn (excellent in my opinion), Shalini talks about some components of a type of grief – intense yearning, and chronic emptiness. When I heard the words “chronic emptiness”, it felt like Shalini had described exactly how we were all feeling.

Are we sobbing uncontrollably all day? No. Are we trying to get on with life? Yes. We are all “functional”. We are going to school, work. We are socialising (with people we like). And perhaps most of all, we are trying to constantly keep busy.

But there is certainly a huge void. This huge hole in all our hearts. A chronic emptiness. It is like we are a shell of what we were. But we are masking it (perhaps again much like what you were doing) and just trying to survive (again probably what you were doing).

I recall Lynn telling us a few weeks after you passed about a text conversation you both had. It was something about studying and exams. And you had said something like you still feel empty even after exams.

We all know how much we and you tried to fill these gaps of emptiness. Flying halfway across the world for conventions and concerts. Incessant buying of autographs and other things. But I guess nothing could fill your void. And I guess nothing can fill ours.

I have had many conversations with friends and cousins after you died. What is the meaning of all this? Is the joy we experience in life worth the pain we endure in life? I really don’t know.

I recall a very difficult day you had a week before you passed. At some stage, I will write it out in a post. I kept telling myself all day you would be ok at the end of the day because your final results were going to be out. A small part of me was worried it would escalate even further if you didn’t do well. But the most part of me was sure you had done well. When the results came out at 10pm, you came to my room and told me happily that you had aced it with high distinctions for all subjects, and that these were the best results thus far. I was thrilled for you, and more because I thought it had broken the very low mood you had been in. But literally minutes later, Jess congratulated you on your results. And your response was, “who cares”. That’s how quickly the joy vanished.

So I guess this is emptiness. We foolishly think we can fill it up with whatever comes to our mind. But we can’t. As many have said to me, grief is patient. Grief will wait.

I guess a part of me also embraces this emptiness. It is a reminder of what you felt for so much of your life. And honestly, how can life ever be normal again? It just can’t. So we will continue to do what we are doing. Living, and surviving, with this chronic emptiness.

Missing you so much my darling.

Love Mum.