I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I’m graduating tomorrow, but I don’t want to think about that and every little thing that could make the day worse, so I’ll write about something else. I met a friend of L’s today. She exuded such good vibes and had a sense of humor like ours! I think you would have liked her. Not sure if you would have enjoyed everything we ate though. We had pizza, pasta, and desserts that were both carb-heavy and super sweet. Actually, you wouldn’t have liked everything I ate today. I had Macca’s for lunch. It’s technically “fast food day” for me, as set by you in our shared calendar, so you can’t fault me for having Macca’s! But I could imagine you trying to convince me to skip “fast food day” – as if that would happen. It’s my one good day in two weeks. As is “bubble tea day” and “instant noodles day” – also something you imposed. I’m still sticking to all the “rules” you set me – not that there are many. You started this because you said you can’t have a wife who’s going to die of a heart attack at 30. Well, now that doesn’t seem so bad.

On the bus ride home today, I had a thought. Well, many thoughts, but one in particular I told myself to remember until I got home so I could write it down. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been reflecting a lot, which happens when one lives in their head a lot. I was thinking about the kind of person I am, the perspective others might have of me, and what they might feel if I were to die. My specific thought was: I hope when I die, people are sad. Because it would mean that I was a good enough person to have positively impacted their lives so much so that my absence makes them sad. Then I thought about you and how many people were crying for you on the day you had to go. I know this already – that you’re a good person who impacted everyone’s lives positively – but I thought about how good you must have been for there to be so much sadness at the thought of your absence. You must have been a darn good person, because there is still so much sadness, even though you have been absent.

I don’t think that happens to everyone. I’ve been to wakes and funerals before. I’ve seen sadness at some, and less at others. But the sadness that I saw and still see, from those who have lost you, feels so different. I don’t know how to adequately put it, but I have a sense that you understand. I’ve said this before, but I don’t think you realize the impact you have on people. You’re a greater person than you think. Isn’t that amazing? To be such a good person? I often hope I am. I try to be.

On another note, I submitted my Statistics assignment today. I hope I do well. I told you that I was still referring to the last Statistics assignment you helped me with, right? Before I click on the “submit” button of every assignment, Statistics or not, I always turn to where I think you are in my room and ask you to hope for me that it’s a HD. It’s a little ritual I have developed that seems to pay off, thanks to you, I presume. In our recent Statistics class, a term that our lecturer mentioned triggered some thinking and I decided to write it down. It’s not exactly related to Statistics, don’t worry (actually, I think you’d prefer if it was related to Statistics).

The term he mentioned was “counterfactual”. It’s an easy word. It literally means “expressing what has not happened or is not the case” or a clearer definition that relates to the example I’m about to give is “imagining alternatives to past events, or thinking about ‘what could have been’; constructing scenarios that are not facts”. Our lecturer basically asked us who would be sadder – the person who won bronze at the Olympics or the person who won silver? Logically, it should be the one who got bronze. But I think we both know it’s the one who got silver. He gave this as an example of something that’s counterfactual. The person who won a bronze medal would be happy for making it into top three. Whereas the person who won a silver would be thinking about how close they were to gold, instead of being happy they’re in second place.

I think you can guess where this is going. As a grieving individual might know, we often think about all the “what ifs” and “what could have been”, when really, it’s all counterfactual. It’s sad to think about – that these imaginings aren’t real – but it’s often all we can do. Lately, my counterfactual thoughts have surrounded graduation and what it would have been like. I have many scenarios in my head that I can’t think about for too long or I’ll fall into a cycle of sadness.

There was one scenario I imagined before we got together though (this makes me sound very stalker-like…). This was in the early months of 2024. It’s silly, but I imagined us on our graduation day. I somehow thought we’d still just be friends, and my primary concern was how I was going to ask for a solo picture with you in front of my parents. I wondered if I would have introduced you as my main competitor. If you’d be meeting them for the first time on our graduation day. I imagined the pictures L, L, you, and I would have taken. I imagined how we would have stood. Would I stand next to you? Would you be in the middle? Can you believe I thought of all this when we had just met? Goodness me. Counterfactual as they may be, it is nice to think about these scenarios every now and then. Oh, what could have been…

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha