I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I’ve always preferred being in control. I’m not sure if I enjoyed it – I think I was conditioned to think I enjoy it. That’s the reason why I plan most of my family trips, take charge for most group projects, and try to plan most of my days. I needed to feel a sense of control over life, and I could only do that by exerting control over what I could control. Of course, I only realized this after I met you and trusted you more than I trust myself – which does not usually happen – and let you take charge. I stopped feeling the need to plan everything, because it was so fun to just let my brain breathe. For once, I didn’t have to do all the thinking I thought I so enjoyed. I love having everything planned for me, but only when you plan it. Being with you is so relaxing and peaceful that I could release the reins and allow things to flow the way they are supposed to without trying to control everything. That’s something else I miss. I miss just walking beside you and having no thoughts about what train we should take to get home or what time we have to be somewhere. I don’t think it is exhausting for you to be in control either; you actually really like it – another reason why we are a good match.

As we have talked about, grief worsens everything. Now, I feel the need to be in control more than ever because of how little control I had over what happened to you, my days following your passing, and to a certain extent, my emotions. I’ve been trying to control my days to an obsessive extent, to the point where I feel myself getting upset if my plan is affected by an impromptu event. I try to control the contexts around my emotions – I avoided listening to your music or the playlist you made for me on the plane because if I could not control my emotions while listening (and I likely would not have been able to) I would control the situations around my emotions. I’m not sure that’s a healthy thing to do, but this is what life has come to. I know you probably won’t like that, but really, there’s nothing else I can do. Life is tough enough without me trying to push myself.

The 31st is looming over our heads and like I mentioned in the previous letter, I don’t know what to do with it. I know there’s actually nothing I can do with it per se, but I feel the need to do something (it’s the control issue again!). Just to feel a sense of control, I’ve been replaying what we have in mind for the 31st to familiarise myself with the day. I think I’m hoping that that might make it easier, but we both know I’m fooling myself.

A few days ago, I had an epiphany of some sorts. I was talking to your mum and I said something along the lines of how time will pass anyway and in the midst of that conversation I actually felt a sense of comfort. Time will pass whether or not I figure out how to cope with the 31st. The 31st will come, and the 31st will go. Even if I don’t learn to cope with it, it will pass. In a way, because this is so out of my control and there is absolutely nothing I can do to make myself feel better, other than somehow bringing you back to life, I feel comforted. Like, alright, there is nothing I can do. There is nothing I can do, so it is okay if I do nothing at all. Time will pass, so it will.

I don’t know if that made any sense to anyone other than myself, but I think I’ve found my solution. I will be with your family. We will cry many, many times. Time will pass and we will be sad forever, but time will pass. And eventually, with enough time passing, we will see you again. And all the sadness we have accumulated over life will be worth it because once we see you again, there will be no more sadness at all.

That sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever. I think you completely understand what I’m saying. I trust that you do. I know it.

Love always,
Sha