I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I got scammed. Again. LOL. I can feel you shaking your head while laughing at me. To be fair, it’s deserved. I was ridiculously daft. At least this time it was for less. Mum’s recommended I go for phishing courses. She has a point.

I’m sure you remember the first time this happened. The fact that there’s a second is humiliating, but nevertheless. You were in the UK (thank God), which is frankly the only reason I realised what was happening. I still remember saying “the guy is still calling me” and you going “IT’S A SCAM”. You’ve always been so much better than me at this. I very much want to say that you not being here is the reason it happened again, but I know that’s a cop out.

We learnt things at different speeds, even though we were raised in the same household. You always had a knack for directions. I did not. We knew you’d be a good driver. We didn’t get the chance to sit in the car while you chauffered us, but somehow, we knew. You did get the chance (many times) to sit in the passenger seat while I drove, so we both know the same doesn’t apply to me. There were just some things you picked up so much quicker.

It tended to be an overnight thing for you. While Mum and the grandparents witnessed me progressing through things, you’d wake up with a newly acquired skill. I’m pretty sure this is what happened with you walking and talking. Mum and I always hoped that’s how it would be when you got better. That you’d wake up, and it’d all be ok. I don’t feel like that’s far from how it ended.

There were other things we learnt when Mum, Ammamma, Patta and Tun couldn’t shelter us. We realised I had a lower threshold to call the police when we weren’t safe. You were scarred so much more quickly and permanently than I was when traumatic things happened. You were also the first one to realise when we had to cut Dad off.

I want to scream at you. There are all these things that we should both still be learning. It shouldn’t be just on Mum or Shalini to make me feel better when I do stupid things that you wouldn’t. I want you to call and tell me to stop doing stupid things. We know Mum’s too nice to. I can hear you telling me that I can’t use not having you here as an excuse for doing dumb things, but tough.

Miss you so, so much. Thanks for all the things you taught me. To be fair, I feel like you somehow still are. I would personally prefer if they didn’t result in me looking like a dumbass, but fair enough.

Love you so much,
Jess