Fatigue Makes Cowards of Us All, but The Last Shred Was Worth the Wait, And Still Hasn't Quite Been Found It’s been years since we’ve heard from the last shred of what may have been at least partially the result of the greatest and last night, as the sun was going down and we were about to turn in for the evening. The rain had just settled when the night sky opened up in a flood of shooting stars across the horizon. We were about to close the window, turn off the radio and go to bed when it happened. Somehow, in the final moment of some massive shower of fireworks across the sky and before everything was lost to the night, we thought we had heard something. Just a hint of something. And when that hint was over we looked out the window only to see nothing. But in that brief moment of time, before everything went dark, in that sliver of time, the last shreds of that night's display were sent our way. And because that was one of the few times that happened, we will never forget how absolutely perfect and glorious that one last thing was. And we were given the honor of being able to see that one last thing. It's happened to us a handful of times. When our friends move away for good. When we pass away first. And when we die. It will be more frequent in the future, we know. What was it like? It looked like a falling star. One long streak of light that seemed like it was coming in a straight line toward our window, before suddenly changing course, just missing our apartment and going down into the parking lot below. That part was pretty amazing because just moments before this I was thinking about getting a grill for the deck (like the ones my neighbors have). It seems like the stars have been following this course all summer as if they were giving us their blessing. And now we were right there with them. It was beautiful. The first part of the night, however, was less than perfect. We were already in bed when we got our first dose of fireworks. It was a small, insignificant display from our old stomping grounds. But it seemed like a good omen, the first fireworks of the night. It was the light of life coming back to us as we finally turned in for the evening. The light of life for those of us that couldn't sleep, as well as the ones who had to get up and get out there and make it happen. And it's really hard to say what any of it meant because it was both so beautiful and so strange at the same time. And sometimes that combination creates anxiety and dread as much as it does wonder and awe. And when it doesn't, when you can get a sense of both in one tiny moment of time, well, it's really hard to explain. We don't even really know how to describe it. But it was one of the most important, most beautiful things I've ever seen, even if it didn't involve a lot of hot guys in bathing suits. The stars of heaven are so much more beautiful and profound than the stars of the night sky. But if there's one thing that makes it worth getting up at 3 in the morning, and staying up until 4 or 5, it's all the stars of the sky, the stars in the sky and the ones in your own eyes. All of them. Because in the end, they're all really the same. It's all us. It's all the same. We're all going to die. We're all going to be gone from this world. And we're all going to go to one place. I wish I could think of a better, less trite metaphor. But I can't. All I know is that the night sky has always been a little bigger than the sky we see every day, for me anyway. It's always seemed like it was the whole galaxy hanging above us. And I guess that it really is. It's hard to explain. But let me try. Life, death, our short time on this earth, the meaning of it, what it really means, whether or not we have a God and, if we do, what that God is up to and what that God is about, whether or not there is some cosmic plan for us all, some great plan beyond our comprehension. Whether or not we even go there. And I'm not saying I know any of the answers. I'm saying that it doesn't matter. Because whether or not we'll all live long enough to find out what that is will be decided right now. At this very moment. And we'll know when we find out. That's a lot more than any of us will know going forward. For each of us, at least for the moment, that's as much as we need to know. I have never before or since the other night felt so blessed to be alive on this planet in this time. The night sky over the city was amazing. I've never seen so many shooting stars. It was beautiful. And it was strange at the same time. But like I said, I don't know what the hell any of it means. I don't know whether or not we have a God. And I sure as hell don't know where the stars came from. But the fact that we could see them right before we fell asleep is something I won't forget for a long time. Maybe forever. I suppose this is as good a time as any to get off of the whole religious conversation. Or maybe not. It all boils down to one thing. The fact that the light from all of those shooting stars was just too pretty to miss out on. The beautiful light of life, shining upon us, bathing us all in its splendor, so that we might know its great beauty and know that we are a part of it and that we are part of the whole. In this life, that's all we really need to know. Because it's the only thing that matters. It's all we have. It's what we really have. That's all there is. In the end. I'm not even going to try to write anymore about it. I have no other choice. There's just no explaining it. If there was, we wouldn't get the opportunity to see it. All we'll ever have is the memory of it. And sometimes a memory is just all you have, because it's what you'll take with you as you go. And there are some things we'll never have the opportunity to see again, because once we do, that memory will be gone. And everything we thought we knew will be lost forever. When I look at those stars in the sky tonight, as I'm about to sleep, or awake in the morning, as I'm about to get up and head out for one more round of fun and games before tomorrow begins and we're all forced to do what we all do from day to day, when I look up and see the stars again, I know it's not about me. I know that for a fact. I'm just another face. There's nothing special about me. I'm no more than a footnote, a throwaway footnote in the great story of life. That doesn't mean I won't try. We don't get that choice. That's why we don't have the option of seeing this, and I think that's what makes it all the more beautiful. Because even though we have the opportunity, we don't have the option to ignore what we really have. Which is life itself. And on the final night of this summer, in the last minutes of it's existence, that's all we really have. Life itself. And then tomorrow will come and we will do it all over again. And that's all there will be. This time tomorrow, it will be gone. And so will I. And so will we all. So instead of trying to explain it, maybe the only thing that can be said is this: life. I wish I could explain it. I wish there was a way to do it justice. To make it real. But I'm only human, and I'm only doing my best, like anyone else. But maybe this is all there is to it. What do you call it when life is all you have? Life. And you are alive. So that's it, then. That's what it's all about, right? The fact that you are alive, and you are there, in this life, with all that life has given you. I wish I had some big answer for you, like some way to express the joy of it, or the beauty of it. But I can't. We can't. And I don't even think we're supposed to know