I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear brother,

I wear low-waisted jeans now. Not like jeans that are slightly on the looser side, but true low-waisted jeans. The type that would make me want to cover my midriff if I ran into colleagues. But I do. God knows this is a new thing. But it’s just one of many things I’ve started doing since you passed.

Do you like them? I wish I could ask you. No one gave me more honest advice than you. Maybe it’s because you knew as my brother, you could get away with most. But I also think it’s because you genuinely cared. If I looked like crap, you would tell me. You learnt as we got older to only share these opinions when I asked.

I really miss having your opinion. I’m really not sure what you would think of how I dress now, or my new friends, or the concerts I’ve been to. I don’t know if I’m losing it, but I look for signs of your approval all the time. I went to a music festival yesterday, where the opening act for the last artist we saw together was playing. I kept watching the clouds to know what you were thinking.

I too was quite careful with when I volunteered my opinions about your outfits. You were so perceptive, I’m sure you could read my face even when I was silent. But you dressed so nicely. I don’t know if I’m subconsciously trying to emulate you, but I find myself wearing your uniform of baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie constantly. I’ve not done jeans with flames painted on them yet, nor found a muscle tee that works for me the way it did for you. I miss your dark blue linen shirt and your maroon varsity jacket. I opened your closet once when I was home in July because I couldn’t remember what colour the boxers you walked around unabashedly in were.

I keep some of your clothes in London, but I don’t wear them. I tried a few times, but I kept hoping they would smell you and they didn’t. So now I know they’re there for when I need them even if I don’t see them every day. Quite like you.

Let me know if you like the jeans. I’m still not sure how flattering they are.

Love,
Acca