I Swear You Will Be Fine

Darling Josh,

There is a book by Jodi Picoult called Nineteen Minutes. It follows the unfolding of a school shooting, the events leading up to it and the aftermath of it. I was strangely drawn to this book several years ago. I’m not sure if you remember me reading this or if I discussed it with you. This is how it starts.

“In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn, color your hair, watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five……

In nineteen minutes, you can order a pizza and get it delivered. You can read a story to a child or have your oil changed. You can walk a mile. You can sew a hem.

In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world, or you can just jump off it.”

I now have my own version of a “Nineteen Minutes”.

22:03 As I entered the elevator, my phone flashed. It was a text from Shalini. I only got a glimpse of it. She was apologising for disturbing me, but was worried that you had not been communicating over the last 40 minutes. My heart dropped. I ran out of the elevator when it got to our level. And I heard the dogs bark. For some bizarre reason, I thought you should be ok since the dogs were barking. I opened the already unlocked front door and walked straight to your room. And there you were. A sight, though not in the least traumatic, forever and ever, etched in my mind. There was the sound of an incoming call (Shalini) constantly coming from your desktop. Even at that very moment, I remember thinking, this can’t be. We were supposed to go to Hokkaido in a couple of days. You couldn’t have done anything. I still hadn’t realised you had died. I screamed, “Josh! Josh!” repeatedly. And then “Somebody please help me”, also repeatedly. But immediately also realised no one could hear me no matter how loud I screamed. I would need to do what needed to be done- alone. I spent the next 3 minutes trying to revive you. But I could tell almost immediately, I was too late. All my medical knowledge went out the window when I tried to open your eyes, thinking that would somehow bring you back to life.

22:06 I looked around for my phone but couldn’t find it. Your phone was what I found. And I was foolishly trying to figure out your password. I then found my phone and called Ammamma. “Ma, Josh has killed himself!” I wailed. All I could hear were screams on the other end. 

22:07 I hung up the phone and called 995. I screamed, “My son has killed himself, please come quickly”. The officer on the other end couldn’t understand me. I had to calm my voice down as I gave more details of the address etc. “Come quickly” I had said. I’m not sure why. There was no point. I still don’t know how I did it.

22:09 I then called Jess to forever change her life. She was on the train to a NYE party. I screamed, “Josh has killed himself. He finally did it. I am all alone”. Between hysterical sobs, Jess said, “I’m coming Mum”. I don’t know why this was not the first call I made. It was Jess who I needed the most. Perhaps there was an element of denial, and still trying to preserve our family of 3.

22:10 I tried to call Shalini. But I couldn’t get through.

22:11 I sat on the floor next to you, my face leaning on your bare chest. You were still warm. You really looked like you were asleep. And I could feel your peace. There was almost a hint of a cheeky smile. They were the most precious of moments. And you somehow managed to transfer some of this peace to me. When I look back at this moment, I wish I had not rushed to call everyone. I wish I had had the strength and willpower to keep you to myself, for just a bit longer. And the sense to give you a hundred kisses before you were taken away from me.

22:15 Jess called me. She was in a taxi on the way back. She stayed with me on the phone. I told her you were still warm. She was trying to see what I could do to revive you. But I told her it was too late. You were gone.

22:18 Ammamma came through the door and into your room. She sat on your bed and pleaded with me to bring you back. That even if we had to look after you paralysed, we should just do that.  I told her I didn’t want to. You struggled in life with no physical limitations. How could you live a life with the added difficulty of physical limitations too?

22:20 The paramedics walked through the door. They came into your room and asked us to give them space. Ammamma pleaded with them to please do something.

22:22 The official time of your death.

Nineteen minutes. Nineteen minutes that would forever change so many of our lives. And would forever end yours. Nineteen minutes that tore apart all our dreams and hopes. And will forever question our own will to keep living.

It is one year today Josh. But it feels like we have aged a thousand years. Some days it feels like just yesterday that you came walking into my room to get my goodnight kiss. Other days, it feels so, so distant. Life has been so cruel to us. But it has been more cruel to you. In this last year, we have learnt so much. You have given us more than a glimpse of what you went through. The ruminating thoughts, the guilt, the emptiness, the retail therapy, the “having to push ourselves to be in situations we don’t want to be in”, the “masks” we constantly have to wear, and even, the suicidal thoughts. Nothing will compare to what you actually went through. But we want to say- we understand.

To all of those angels you sent to us this year, “thank you” alone will never be enough. But still, thank you. Thank you for the silent tears you shed with us, thank you for the numerous “check-ins”, thank you for your love, hugs, presents, tattoos, meet-ups, meals and prayers. And most of all, thank you for being with us on this most painful journey. Sharing the grief and keeping Josh “alive” has honestly been what has kept us going.

Today is also the day we announce the Joshua Sanjay Glenn Foundation. It has finally been set up. Through this foundation, we hope to be able to finance mental health care to those who are unable to afford it. Your foundation will also provide grief support groups – to family members, partners and friends, like us, who have had to embark on this painful journey. We are not alone.

As excruciatingly hard as it is and as our hearts feel the unimaginable weight of your loss, today, we will try to remember it is one year of beautiful, blissful peace for you, and one year in heaven for you. And as Jess said, we are one year closer to being with you.

Happy Heavenly First Year Anniversary my darling.

With all my love,

Mum