(From my journal October 5, 1972~ Mom came into my room tonight. She wanted to talk to me. She is so thin, and so frail, it is hard for me to look at her. I see her and I just want to cry. The tracheotomy was rasping with every breath she took, but she says it’s important. I don’t want to hear it. I’m way too pissed off. She climbed up on my bed and lay down next to me on my purple blanket. And then she started to talk to me about being happy of all the damned things.)
My beautiful daughter, I am so worried about you. I want nothing more than to see you happy. I want you to have a life filled with joy, and I see how you are hurting. I fear for you, for what you will put yourself through. Every day you withdraw a little more – from me, from our family, from life itself. I wish I could do or say something to make you happy again. I want so much to see your beautiful smile, hear the song of your laughter.
Mom, are you happy? How can you expect any of us to be happy? This is totally sucks. None of us are happy. It’s not just me.
You are beginning your life now, no longer a child and not yet an adult. How your life ends up will be the result of a series of decisions you make. Being happy is a choice you make. Happiness and joy are not things that happen to you. Being happy is a choice you make every minute, every second of your life. If you believe that life is good, your belief will make your life good. Your life is whatever you think it is. Think it beautiful so it is beautiful.
Right, Mom. Life is just fabulous. I can’t wait to wake up and see what new joy tomorrow brings.