I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

How has it been 600 days already? It’s almost nauseating to think I haven’t seen you in that long. When you first passed and I felt like I was going to explode in London, I’d force myself to think you were still at home. I wasn’t seeing you only because we were in different countries; that was it. You were still walking the dogs, eating healthy, being good to Ammamma and Patta, talking to Mum, studying hard and walking Shalini home every day. I just couldn’t see it cuz I was in a different country.

When you first passed, I couldn’t do my hair. I remember using my hairdryer on the highest setting for as short a time as possible. I couldn’t be bothered to raise my arms for that long, let alone style my hair. You know how vain a family we are, so I hope this does a bit to testify to my grief. I was relieved that I wore the same navy scrubs to the hospital every day, because I didn’t want to look presentable in the lovely clothes Ammamma bought me. And I don’t think I wore makeup to Uni until I sat for my practical exam 6 months later, regardless of the inevitable eyebags I had from trouble sleeping.

This week, I alternated between curling and straightening my hair. I wore makeup every day except for when I went on a hike. I even makeup some when friends came home, because I care enough about looking nice. I pick my clothes for work every day carefully and happily show Ammamma and Mum what I look like over FaceTime.

I spoke to Mum about it. I’m happy with my life right now. I love my job, my house and my friends. I love London, and I love getting to call our family and text Shalini whenever I want. And then I remember you’re not here, and the grief shocks me. It doesn’t come as a slow wave, but jolts me and makes me want to scream. I told my first friend in my new life that you’ve passed. I didn’t calculate it beforehand, and I think you would approve of the friend. But I am so, so worried that people will think your death is just a passing note in my life, instead of the earth-shattering thing it really is.

I saw the three flatmates who got me through your passing in London yesterday. And the way they talk about you reminded me that I think it’s impossible. Impossible to know any of us well and think that your passing was just something that happened. It’s been more than 1.5 years since you passed. 2 of the 3 girls never even met you. But they talk about you so much. You are being grieved by people you never met. So I have faith that as long as you remain a massive part of our lives, which you always will, those close to us will know how devastating losing you has been. But also how blessed we were, and are, to have you.

I’m getting my first paycheck this week. I would have been so, so excited to show you. You may have gotten older, more mature and responsible, but your first question has always been the same. What are you going to get me? My plan is to buy a mug for 10 quid, some clothes, and order dinner for Mum, Ammamma, Patta, Tun and Shalini in Singapore. What do you want? The only time I used my own money to buy you something was the day before you passed. God knows I would buy you absolutely anything you wanted now. I’m still going to buy you something, so you kinda need to give me a hint anyway.

Love you so, so much,
Acca