12/17/2024
When I was a teenager, 42 seemed ancient. I imagined the years between childhood and that age as a vast canyon, filled with countless life experiences — joys, sorrows, triumphs, and losses — all adding up to an accumulated wisdom I had yet to comprehend.
My mom turned 42 in July of 1999. Two months later, she passed away, losing a lifelong battle with her own tortured mind. On that date, 26 long years separated us, chronologically. Today, not one.
Recently — surely in large part due to the unshakable weight that “42” has had on me — I’ve fallen into a rabbit hole of exploring the number itself, and am fascinated by its prevalence in our culture. In my opinion, the most iconic role for 42 is in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. In Douglas Adams’ universe, 42 isn’t just a number; it’s THE number — the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. Sure, we may not know the question, but isn’t that the point? It has always felt that way to me.
Today, on my 42nd birthday, I find myself reflecting on how this number has shaped my own journey — from my mom’s final year to its cosmic celebrity status in Hitchhiker's Guide. It’s surreal to now be here, in an age I once saw as impossibly far away, grateful for how much life remains to be lived and (stubbornly) accepting of how many questions will always linger unanswered.
Maybe 42 isn’t just “the answer to life, the universe, and everything.” For me, it’s a testament to resilience — to over seven years of sobriety, the hard work of tending to my mental health, the dedication it’s taken to nurture my business, and the vulnerability I’ve divulged in my personal relationships. It’s also an acknowledgment that the struggles don’t magically disappear. I still stumble. I still face hard days. But I continue showing up — for myself, for the people I love, and for the life I’ve worked hard to build.
