A Bittersweet Birthday

Today would have been my sister Stephanie's 46th birthday.

Because of her, everyone already knew me when I was a tiny new marcher nervously clutching my saxophone the summer before entering 8th grade, afraid of all of the intimidating "big kids." Those kids instead took me under their proverbial protective wings, for which I'm eternally grateful.

I would probably had a really difficult time otherwise, introverted geek that I was (and am), and perhaps I would have quit long before my senior year. Instead, the band became a kind of surrogate family that has been difficult, if not outright impossible, to replace in all the decades that have followed. In fact, my band friends are the main reason I still have a presence on social media. Again, all of this was because I had a big, cool sister who paved the way for me all those many years ago.

My sister has now been gone for nine years, and I often wonder what life might be like if she were still around. A lot of my modern memories are tainted with sadness, and though we move on, we never fully recover. Not really.

You can pave over paradise with a parking lot, but you'll always have the pictures.

In years past, I've said much on the topic of what I owe to my big sister, who left this Earth long before her time. I still can't believe that I, the awkward little brother, have now outlived my much cooler, older sibling. I mean, I'm cool and all, but I'll never be "Stephanie cool," and neither will you.

You kind of just have to learn to live with that.

"Pika Pika?"

It is fascinating how sometimes life will toss us into completely unexpected situations. Just last week I found myself being the driver and chaperone for a high school prom, despite the fact that I don't have any kids. (That came out quite a bit creepier sounding than I had intended, but I'll offer no further explanation.)

Today, I find myself at an anime convention working on the rough draft to a ghost story, all while nerds dressed as anime and video game characters stoll by being uniquely weird and awesome. (It is a kind of pure Nirvana, if I'm being honest.)

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried, which I sincerely hope isn't a commentary on my forthcoming fiction writing abilities. That, I suppose, remains to be seen.

But the point is...I'm wearing a Pikachu hat in a hotel lobby while writing a book surrounded by geeks, and this really isn't such a bad life.

The Unity of Infinity

I don't know who may need to read this, but...

When you gaze up into the sky on a clear night, and you realize you're literally staring into an infinite abyss, the idea may occur to you that compared to the rest of All That Exists, we humans are indescribably small and utterly insignificant. This thought is humbling, as it should be. We need humility.

Yet, amongst all of that seemingly incalculable creation, we exist. We are literally assembled from the very dust as forms the entirety of the Cosmos-all that we can possibly perceive or even imagine-itself.

We aren't merely standing at the edge of a vast emptiness; we are Infinity itself. We are connected to something so much bigger than at first appears confined as we are to our mortal shells. Put simply: we are not alone.

And that, my friend, I find pretty encouraging.