Responsibility to be Happy
By Colleen Edwards
A few weeks ago, my mom and I sat in the lobby of a Pennsylvania hotel, each with a glass of wine in our hands. She was reading me the eulogy she wrote for her mother’s funeral—my beautiful grandma. We were all there for the funeral, hundreds of cousins and all my aunts and uncles.
It was surreal. Grandma Lydia was the life force of the family. She brought everyone together. Over the couple of months since she passed, I’ve thought so much about death and dying.
The author’s mother and grandmother
I’ve also thought about living.
Seeing my own mom reading her mother’s eulogy was a profound moment in my life. It felt like one of those times where there is a distinct before and after, and this was the after. As I continue to get older and try to figure out what I’m doing with my own life, I’m struggling to find out exactly what drives me and makes me who I am. The passage of time has never felt more relevant. We could’ve never imagined the day Grandma wasn’t here.
My mom has said this phrase countless times to me over the past year: You have a responsibility to be happy.
At first, it annoyed the shit out of me. The first half of this year was a horrible time for me. I was in Chicago and struggling. I was so unhappy, and had been for months. I didn’t understand how my mom couldn’t see that it wasn’t that simple.
Waking up and staying positive and being happy was not in the cards for me.
Now I’m looking at her advice differently. Sometimes, happiness is a choice and we have a responsibility to see the good in our lives even when everything feels like utter shit. I’m in a better place now and I realize what she was trying to tell me. When I was in the depths of my depression, that wasn’t an option.
My grandma had an open casket at her funeral. I’d never seen an open casket before, much less seen someone I loved lying there dead. It was heartbreaking. She had her bear with her.
Gathering with Grandma Lydia. The author wears a white shirt, right of center.
My brother, sister, and I bought her that bear one Christmas when we were little, and to see that bear in the casket was indescribable. I hadn’t known it was still with her after all these years. It was sitting up, right next to her, just like she always had it when we went into her bedroom to say goodnight. There are no words in the human language to describe the hollowness I felt. But when I thought about that bear a little more, I felt peaceful. Grandma would’ve wanted the bear next to her.
She was ALWAYS happy. There was never a time I saw her unhappy. She always chose to see the good in everything.
We spent part of that weekend driving around the neighborhood my mom grew up in. I had seen it before, years earlier, but this time felt different. As we wandered around the old houses and stopped in front of hers, I imagined my mom as a little girl running around the streets. She told me stories from her childhood and I thought how difficult it must have been for her at that moment, looking around the place where her mom raised all nine children and having to come back and say goodbye.
All our lives, people tell us how fast time goes. There is never enough of it.
The author and her siblings with their grandmother
I’m 26 and I’m trying to find meaning in my own life. Thinking about dying has made me wonder so much about living. Some days I feel as though I’m in a haze. I work as a waitress on Maui, which is something I did all throughout college, and there are times when I feel like I’ve moved backward. I have compared myself to others my age and think I need to be somewhere else in life.
Once again, my mom’s voice echoes in my head. You have a responsibility to be happy.
I have the same problems and issues that haunted me in Chicago. Changing locations didn’t help that. However, I am in a much better space to deal with those issues and I have tried to instill in myself that perspective is key. Living purposefully can just mean that your “purpose” at the moment is to be where you are and do the absolute best with what you have. I can choose to think about why I am here and I can choose to hold myself accountable for my happiness. This is all I have, this time right here, this moment, this day. I need to be better about holding onto that.
The passage of time is such an impossible thing to grasp. Moments, seconds, days, years—they all mold into one. We grow up and we are adults and each day we have made so many little decisions that shape and mold who we are. Each day, we can find a little something that can bring us happiness, whether that be a little bear, a flower, a sunset, or a piece of candy.
How beautiful is that? I read a book recently called Beautiful Ruins in it was this line:
William Eddy has simply… survived. And as he faces the horizon, we realize that maybe it’s all any of us can hope to do…Every love is the same love, and it is overpowering—the wrenching grace of what it is to be human. We love. We try.
We can recognize that as humans we experience the same emotions, the same thoughts, and same mistakes as others. Life and death are so close- hold onto every moment. Love your people, tell them you love them, and hug a little bear every once in a while. It will make you happy.
Colleen Edwards loves burritos, writing, and camping. Until recently, she worked for Chicago’s Homeless Coalition to find housing for people who are in need. She hopes to one day write for National Geographic. Follow her on Instagram: @colleenedwards.
