I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

What I think is the worst day of our lives is fast approaching and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. The worst-worst part of this is that we will have to deal with this every year from now on. I thought birthdays and special occasions were bad, but boy was I wrong. I know you’re happier where you are, but I selfishly wish you were here instead. The pain feels so hard to hold that I don’t know what to write. This will be my last letter to you for this year before we move on to the next, and before every letter I post, I write it on a Word document to triple check it. Today, as I’m about to write my last letter to you for this year, Word decided to crash on me and I’m unable to open the application. Is this another one of your ways of trying to distract me from the horror of reality?

My mind drifts to the 31st last year and everything I did and didn’t do for you. Thinking about this actually makes me hate myself and my actions, but I also want to remember every aspect of the day (as if I will ever forget). I’m not sure why – maybe reliving this torturous day is my mind’s way of subconsciously processing it.

The morning started way better than the past few mornings we’d had. You were in a great mood and texts from you were flowing which really lifted my mood. I was in Kyoto that day and sending you tons of photos and videos of me in a Kimono, and you responded so, so nicely (as you always do whenever I send you things like that). I was actually feeling really hopeful that we’d have great conversations in the night. Although you had both good and bad moments during our nightly calls, I was always worried that there would be a sad conversation I wouldn’t be able to pull you out of. But on the 31st, I was so hopeful. Next time, I will learn to read between the blurry lines and be more cautious.

My family and I planned to walk through the Bamboo Forest in Kyoto and right at the entrance, there was a fountain of eternal peace and happiness. It stated that if you submerge your hands in the fountain for longer than ten seconds, you’ll be blessed with eternal peace and happiness. Although it was freezing, I placed my hands in the icy water for twenty seconds (just to be sure) and texted you what I did. You laughed at me for being superstitious because I’m usually not (but I guess desperate people grasp at whatever straws they can find, right?), and said “thank you” in all caps (another sign that you were in a good mood). You were also really happy that I convinced my family to go to the Bamboo Forest and Philosopher’s Walk – these were the two places we talked about with your uncle when I first met him. Next time, I’ll submerge my hands in the icy fountain for more than thirty seconds – twenty clearly only guaranteed your eternal peace and happiness, maybe thirty will do it for the rest of us too.

Later in the afternoon, you told me that your family was holding another party in the evening and you were tired of socializing. From your texts, I could tell that your mood dipped a little, and I tried my hardest to lift you up by making stupid jokes. It seemed to have worked and your texting style reverted back to all caps and silly jokes. Next time, I’ll convince you to go to the party after making those silly jokes.

In the early evening, we were back to our usual selves. You asked me how my bus ride was on the way to Philosopher’s Walk, and when I gave a terribly boring response, you mocked me for it. You made toilet jokes because I told you I urgently needed to use the bathroom, and laughed when we had a mini debate and I said I let you win. You sent me a picture of the boys and teased Cadbury for being a grouchy baby. I didn’t ask you why the boys were outside your room. I didn’t ask what you were doing at home instead of being at the party. I didn’t ask if you were alone. Next time, I’ll do all of that.

When I finally reached Philosopher’s Walk, it was too late and I could barely send you videos because it was too cold and dark. You responded with a sad face and apologized for us going there, even though it was not your fault. I reassured you, our conversations carried on, and I told you that I might have to delay our nightly call because the buses had finished their rounds and we had to walk to the train station. You said it was okay, that you were going to play games while waiting for me to get back to the hotel, and you might not respond to me as promptly as you usually would because of that. I left you to it. Next time, I will bear the cold and text you throughout my journey home. I will insist that we text all the time and that you promptly respond to me so that I’ll know you’re safe.

At 7:45pm, your mood was off. You said you’d done something stupid on impulse. I got worried. I asked you what you did. You said you’d tell me during our call. I asked you to promise me that you were safe, and you did. Next time, I will persist and ask you to tell me what happened. Next time, alarm bells will sound in my head and I will text your mum to come home early because you’re not doing well. Next time, I won’t just ask you to promise me that you’re safe, I’ll ask you to call me immediately.

On the train ride back to my hotel, my phone was running out of battery and I was charging it on the train but it was overheating. I wanted to call you on the ride back, but I was worried that it might spoil my phone and I wouldn’t be able to contact you anymore. So I told you that I’d call you when I got back to the hotel. Next time, I’ll call you on the train ride back, even if it risks my phone exploding or catching fire (I googled and saw that this could happen, which I thought would be worse than calling you later, so I didn’t take the risk. Next time, I will).

On the walk back to the hotel, we were still texting, though only periodically. You said you were still playing games and I didn’t want to bother you. I thought you were okay now that you had gotten rid of the impulsiveness at 7:45pm. I told you I’d call you in 15 minutes and you agreed. When 15 minutes came and went, and you didn’t respond to my texts, I thought you were still gaming and decided to wait another 15 minutes before trying to call you. Next time, I won’t wait.

When you didn’t pick up my calls and answer my texts, I texted you that I will give you another short while before alerting your mum. I waited, and texted, and waited. Next time, I won’t wait at all.

After that, nothing came from you again. Next time, I will make sure that doesn’t happen. I will make sure we call, we text, we talk. Next time, I will make sure you stay alive until I come back home. Next time, I will get us through this.

I didn’t know it this time, but I know all of this now. So the next time this happens, I will know what to do to save you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Josh. I’m really, really, sorry.

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever. Happy (almost) one year in Heaven.

Love always,
Sha