I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

The days are getting harder and harder. We are all sinking deeper and deeper. Right now, it feels like we will never come out of it. But I remind myself that we were better a few weeks ago. Will it really be better after the 31^st of December? It doesn’t feel like it will.

From intermittently crying every few days, I have now deteriorated to crying multiple times per day. It has become a common scenario at restaurants- me reaching for tissues and everyone else on the table crying along with me. It is the same for Jess and Shalini too. It makes me constantly think of how excruciatingly difficult it must have been for you, not being able to share your pain and to have had to endure it yourself.

Yesterday was, in particular, a very difficult day. Having had difficult days most of this week, Shalini and I planned to spend some time together. It was a day with very heavy rain. As I drove home, I was reminded of that fateful day, which was very much like yesterday. It had been pouring with rain most of that day. When I went home, Tun also had the same feeling.

We are also reminded of the days leading up to your last day with extended family being here. It was a similar situation to last year. As we had dinner together, I could only focus on the fact that one grandchild was not there (sorry Jess, I know you were not there too). But Josh, your absence was felt more than anytime I could remember. I was reminded of the many dinners we had together, and the one we had just 2 days before you died. There was talk of the favourite grandchild, totally intended to be innocent and harmless. But I wanted to yell out, “There can only be one favourite grandchild. Now and forever.” I know I am being sensitive. But the whole thing is just so unfair. It somehow felt like you were forgotten. And no matter how many times Shalini and I tried to mention your name to try to include you in the conversations, it didn’t quite progress. Most of the rest of the night was Tun and Jess comforting me while I could not stop crying. The result of that was both of them crying along with me too and Jess worrying about me for several hours.

But on a lighter and happier note, while I had dinner with some friends 2 nights ago, and despite me crying (again), one of them said to me that every time she thinks of you, she sees you smiling and at peace. She gave me a bag with presents for Jess and me and I immediately felt the deep sadness that there was nothing for you. But even before she took the presents out of the bag, she told me that she had ordered a Christmas present for you too, but it had just not arrived. I only know to cope this way. Rightly or wrongly. I need to know you are happy (thank you for the multiple “fly” signs this week to Shalini, Jess, Ammamma and Tun!). And I need to keep you alive. In whatever way I can.

While I was writing this post, my clinic assistant came into my room for a clarification. While I was signing the forms, she suddenly said, “Good morning Joshua”. I was shocked. I said “That’s so sweet of you”. And she told me every time she comes into my room to leave me a drink, she looks at your picture and greets you. So beautiful. I nearly cried again.

I need you to stay even closer to us now Josh. With Shalini as she starts her travels, with Jess as she returns home, with Ammamma and Patta as the anniversary of the worst day of our lives approaches, with Tun as she deals with the daily reminders, with the dogs, and with all our closest friends. I need to know you are alive somewhere. So send us as many flies as you want, together with anything else you may have up your sleeves!

Love Mum