I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I can’t believe I’m still thinking about this, but I was replaying the events on that awful night, and it had to be impulsive. You’ve heard us tell this story a billion times now, replaying it over and over again in hopes of finding a little loophole that will miraculously recover you to us. It’s almost as if the minute we find a blip, we can be like, “Yes! This is it! This is the mistake that took you from us!” And someone from above will come down and reward us for our days of analyzing the past by gifting you back to us. I wonder what your reaction is whenever you hear us talking about the 31st again. Are you shaking your head? Are you looking at us with that sad expression on your face, wondering if we will ever be okay?

I am so certain it was impulsive. I imagine that something came over you and you weren’t able to think it through. You wouldn’t have done it if you could think it through. If you had thought about your family, about me, about your friends, about how far you have come, you wouldn’t have done it. You wouldn’t have done it if you thought about it for a second because you knew your mum would find you. You knew that I’d scream and struggle with losing you. You knew that we would never recover. So, it had to be impulsive. You wouldn’t do this to us otherwise.

It had to be impulsive because you would have indulged in some unhealthy dinner instead. It had to be impulsive because the dogs were home and you wouldn’t have done that to them. It had to be impulsive because you didn’t leave a note. You didn’t say goodbye, not to anyone, not to me. I thought you would have at least said goodbye to me, or gave me some sort of hint that you were going to do something like this. But I knew it was impulsive because you didn’t.

You didn’t take your watch off. You were sharing your health notifications with your mum and I. Whenever there was an anomaly in your heart rate, breathing, sleep, volume levels, fitness levels, or anything remotely important, we’d be notified. It wasn’t a precautionary measure to have your health information; it was an act of emotional intimacy and love. I shared mine with you too. If it was impulsive, you would have taken your watch off so we wouldn’t be notified. Although, even with your watch on, we weren’t notified. I sometimes think I should talk to Apple about this (if I could). Maybe a mental health safety measure could be implemented so situations like that wouldn’t happen to someone else.

The absence of a note was the biggest telltale sign that it was impulsive. I think you would have left something for us. I think you would have wanted to make your love for us known. You would have known that we’d feel guilty and blame ourselves for losing you, so you would have tried to ease our guilt. You love us too much not to leave a note, I’m certain of this. So, it had to be impulsive.

Your last message to me was “just checking!” – in response to me answering your question about what time I’d be back at the hotel. You asked me what time I’d be back, and I said, “in about 15 mins, what’s up”. Could I have known what you were about to do? I ask myself this question countless times. I still believe that if I had called you earlier, maybe right when you asked this, you would still be here.

There were so many signs that it was impulsive. Likely more signs than all I’ve written here. It’s been more than a year, but I still carry these regrets with me. I have so much guilt over not calling you earlier. Or even going on the family holiday to Japan. I thought you’d be okay. You thought you’d be okay. I think we all thought you’d be okay. And just like that, we were gone. If it wasn’t impulsive, I think your last message to me would have been a goodbye.

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

Love always,
Sha