What is happening in life Thuy?
January 10, 1970. Today the big Branch meeting had 3 new comrades, one of which was me. I hadn’t thought that the Party was so young, but really in the Revolution people advance so fast and I am myself raised in this strength. The way we go we still face thousands of hardships. I hope that I step strongly up, walking over all the obstacles so to be a worthy Party member.
January 12, 1970. All those days living near him filled my mind with heavy thoughts: if I say nothing it isn’t right, but if I do say anything, what will I say? Everything needing to be said is already said. Oh! How can I say anything when life is still counted by seconds and minutes? I don’t want to think too far ahead: I only want to talk about now. One minute of life is one minute of honor. Ahead of us are thousands of troubles. I hope you will keep our love and take it to lean on for encouragement.
January 13, 1970. M left already! I cannot think about right now. Eight years ago under the tree on the old road I said good-bye to him as he left to go south, with no words of promise and never a tear we said good-bye, then for five years I kept my heart for this Liberation soldier. Then I also came south following the calls of country and love. I met M again and everyone said that nothing could compare to this love. But life has too many troubles. When we were far from each other I called his name every second and every minute, but when we met again I let self-respect control my emotions. M does not belong to me, of course he saves his highest love for the Party and the People, but if he leaves so little for me then… I can’t answer my love-filled heart. I never asked him to stay with me and to marry me, but even through the falling of bombs and explosions of fire I still kept my love. M did not and I had to force my heart to forget all that made my heart alive for 12 years. It is really like he said: I have a kind, deep love but too much self-respect.
Three years have passed and we have only seen each other twice, both of us sad when we thought about love.
Who is at fault? Is it mine or is it his? No-one can answer: everyone discusses it and makes suggestions. I was told that it isn’t necessary to continue to care for someone who is not worthy of that love. A number of people have a better understanding and tell me I should go back to him and not to be so proud. But both of us just laughed in the face of their ideas. No-one really knows what is going on with our love, so the decision is ours alone.
Now he has left without meeting me, just like the letter he left for me said: “With a living love there is no need to see each other, even from north to south, far or near. Anywhere I am it will be the same many years from now as it was eight years ago for us to love each other or to live with each other as the closest people in the world. The decision remains yours”.
That decision is alright. Here I will give my entire life to the Struggle and to work: I cannot have another love, and he cannot have another love except me.
Life gives me this road, so I must try to travel it: when we see each other then we will talk about the future. I hope M, the comrade that I love, will be safe on the way he goes and I send my best love to him, the love of a friend and a comrade.
January 15, 1970. A rainy afternoon in Dong Ram. I returned to Dong Ram after saying good-by to this place on April 28, 1969 when the clinic was attacked. Today, my heart filled with sorrow, I came back and looked at the land and the ruined houses with the trees all burned.
Here are many sad and happy memories of my revolutionary life. Here I was accepted under the Party flag after so many days of hard work. Here I trained to rise from a new student to become a cadre leader with more or less duties as a result. Here I found the purest family love which made me strong enough to bear the hardships of the life. At this river I waited for him every noon, at this tree I sat with him on the day we separated. How many memories one-by-one come to mind... the Pirates took away two of my journals already, but even though I lost those two books I still have a very precious one, my mind: it notes everything that happens in this life.
