The answer to life, the universe, and everything

is 42. At least that's what Douglas Adams wrote. It's funny; in some ways, for me, it's been true. I turned 42 in February, and this year I have definitely learned some lessons and let go of some baggage. 42, for me, is the place where I finally feel in sync; I belong here. I fit.

Friday was Kris's birthday, and it held some answers for me. It finally answered the question, "when will this day stop hurting so much?". It didn't hurt. It was pleasant, even, with overtones of sad and lonely that English doesn't have a word for. The best word for it is Brazilian Portuguese: saudades. Tenho muito saudades.

Yet even with that sad, lonely, missing someone who will never return feeling, I was content. Peaceful. I was okay.

And so, maybe for me and for Kris, 42 IS the answer to life, the universe, and everything. I am me, and I do the best I can. Your opinion of me does not define me. I will live for me, and make sure I push a little harder in honor of Kris. I am not broken, though I miss her. Life does go on, and aging is a privilege not granted to everyone. As Mitch Albom wrote, "Death ends a life, not a relationship."
Here's to 42. Gray hair, wrinkles, and aching knees? I've earned them all. Bring it.