Life Is Too Short to Not Be Happy

As you may, or may not, know, my mother died last month. She was only 46 years old and had she lived but three days longer, she would have been 47. She wasn’t ill. No one expected her to die. Something just went wrong with her surgery, a surgery she had done several times before.

For some reason I’m not terribly sad or upset about her death. Maybe it’s because I know she was doing well in the last years she was alive. She was making plans for herself and doing something about them. She was living. She was laughing. She was having fun.

I want to emulate my mother and be happy. I want to take her advice and not let anything stress me out, not let people stress me out. I want to do what I have to do and not get bogged down by the negativity that surrounds me. I want to go places.

I’ve never thought of life as something that I had a whole lot of, or that was ahead of me, like it was spread out before me and I could take my time to do whatever I wanted to with it. Especially now that my mother has died, I dislike people telling me that I have my whole life ahead of me, or that I’m young. That means nothing. At any given time and in any of a number of ways, I could die. It could be today. It could be tomorrow. So I want to live my life and be happy.

Life isn’t something that can be rewound and played out again. There are no do overs. I knew this before, but now I want it to be a constant part of my thinking. I only have one. I want to spend it laughing. I want to spend it loving. I want to spend it being happy, because life is too short not to be happy.

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