Starlight

I am home alone tonight, at least for a while. The small town I live in is quiet, wrapped in darkness now that the snow has finally melted and the heavy clouds have drifted south. The sky is clear for the first time in a while, and as I step out onto my little balcony for a smoke, I can see a million stars lighting up the horizon.

Inside, my old, busted radio is playing some music. David Hasselhoff’s crooning his “Song of the Night,” which will soon roll into “Flying on the Wings of Tenderness.” For the first time all week, I feel a bit of peace, even though I know there is still a storm waiting ahead of me.

My teacher used to say, “Knowledge doesn’t mean much if you don’t have faith.” To really learn something, you have got to believe in it. Faith is not something science can fully explain, but it is where understanding begins. And tonight, I realize I do believe. I believe in the spark of the souls we have loved and lost.

So here I am, standing on my balcony, staring up at the stars. They feel both far away and close, kind of like an old summer romance. You remember it so clearly, like it just happened, but you also know it is long gone. The memory is sweet—too close to forget, yet too distant to feel again. When you walk down memory lane, you have got to listen to your heart, not your head. There is a kind of wisdom in feelings that is hard to put into words.

And then, something my grandpa told me years ago comes rushing back. I was just a kid back then, too young to really get it. He said starlight is not just light—it is the magic of love, sending hope into the world’s darkest corners. He believed that wherever you are, whatever you are going through, you can feel that tenderness. It is a reminder that we are never truly alone. Our ancestors are out there, watching over us, healing our bruised hearts, and reigniting our hope when it is almost gone.

As Hasselhoff’s song lifts me up on its “wings of tenderness,” I finally understand the power in my grandpa’s words. That unreachable starlight connects us all. It helps us fall in love, lifts us when life gets tough, and comforts us when we are down. It gives us hope and keeps us moving forward.

A small smile creeps onto my face, and the emptiness I have felt all week starts to fade, replaced by gratitude. I am grateful for my grandpa—for knowing him, for walking this earth alongside him, even if only for a while. And I realize now that love sometimes means letting go. How could I ever feel truly alone when there are a million souls watching over me?

No, I am not really home alone. I will never feel that way again. Starlight is the eternal power of love—a gift from the universe that reminds us we are never forgotten. It is a home for every soul, whether they are still here or have moved on.

As I take another drag from my cigarette, I look up at the stars. Suddenly, my grandpa’s words hit me in a way they never did before. A few days after his passing, I am finally starting to understand what he meant. My mind might doubt it, but my heart knows it is true. There is real comfort in his words—a kind of wisdom that sticks with me.

© 1995

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