Birthday in Parallel Universes
Nature, a stranger’s encounter and a friend’s conversation remind me the interconnection of our lives
Yesterday was my birthday, my first without Andy. I had a wonderful day, part in solitude, part with our son, Julian. There was food, of course, plenty of time in nature, delightful conversations, and a curious encounter.
Morning: Ocean and the Sky
The day began quietly, with a few hours alone at the beach. I set my chair down and walked toward the ocean. The waves rushed in, crashing into the shore. The water lapped at my feet, sinking them into the sand, then retreated. The process repeated again and again. I looked out into the ocean. The horizon line became the sky.
I was reminded: we are all interconnected.
I journaled, meditated, people-watched, and listened to music from Japan’s Studio Ghibli films. Their storytelling has emotional depth, never shying away from life’s pain such as death, illness, wars and separations, yet holding them alongside courage, breathtaking beauty of nature, and childlike wonder. The theme music from “Castle in the Sky,” captured that sentiment.
That duality mirrors what you and I all live: joy and grief, hope and fear, in the same breath.
Have you noticed we are constantly exchanging energy and ideas with everything around us?
Have you noticed how your emotions can shift from moment to moment?
Sorrow washed over me when I thought of Andy, who had passed away from cancer.
Awe surged as I spotted the ocean from afar.
Joy sparked when two boys Julian’s age zipped down a hill on one electric scooter, heading toward the beach.
Playfulness bubbled up when children in neon shirts chased the surf, dragging seaweed and squirming as flies swarmed.
These small, simple moments shifted my inner world in real time.
Afternoon: A Stranger’s Heartbreak
After my solitude, I went home to see Julian. With a grin, I reminded him, “It’s my day! I get to eat what I want and play my music in the car!”
Today, I’m a Queen.
We set out for boba tea, then fried chicken for lunch. While we were eating, I noticed a man looking over. Eventually, he approached, cautious at first.
“I’m a math teacher if you ever need tuition,” he said, telling me he had a master’s degree in physics in his home country of Iran.
“How did he know I’m crap at math?” I thought. Before I let that silly thought continue, he pointed at Julian. His introduction opened the door to an unexpected conversation, one that quickly drifted away from math into quantum physics, energy, and the idea of parallel universes.
“How does physics see deaths?” I asked.
“I believe that after we die, our energy transitions from this universe into another,” he said. “It still exists; only our physical body here dies.”
His name was Milad. Less than two years ago, he and his wife came to the U.S. after winning the green card lottery. Almost at the same time, she was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. She received treatment in Iran before being treated in the same hospital in California as Andy.
When I asked if the idea of parallel universes brought him comfort in his grief, he paused. “Not really,” he said. “We’d lived together for a long time. It’s been very difficult.”
“Where do you think she is now?” I asked.
“She could be anywhere,” he said, referring to the theory he studied. “She could be next to me right now.”
I wasn’t sure how much he truly believed it. Of course, I was searching for certainty for myself, hoping his answer would comfort me.
We parted.
EVENING: NO BIRTHDAY CANDLES BUT LIGHTS
Julian and I went swimming in the bay, the cool water wrapping around me, waking my senses. Later, we watched the magnificent sun sink into the horizon, glowing orange, before driving away from it. Dinner was simple rich, comforting laksa noodles, followed by ice cream.
Earlier in the day, I had humorous email exchanges with my former boss. Later, I had a phone conversation with a friend who wished me a happy birthday, which ended with me sharing helpful tips for her friend.
I realized: life is a constant exchange of energy, stories and perspectives. We are each living in our own universe. When the moments our worlds touch, they ripple into each other. Once again, we are all interconnected.
When Julian and I got home, I was surprised by a sight from my bedroom — the bed lights had switched on by themselves, again. The day before, I had wondered if the lights would be on for my birthday just as they had three times right in front of my eyes, the day before the anniversary of me and Andy. That happened many more times after that.
I have a skeptical mind and have dismissed these repeated occurrences since Andy’s passing, as coincidences.
How many times does one need to see something to believe it is true?
This time, I was certain it was Andy’s way of saying “Happy Birthday” from wherever he is, maybe his energy from that parallel universe Milad spoke of. I wished it could give me even more comfort.
Even across unseen boundaries, we are all interconnected.
