So long, Spiderman...

I haven't written in so long. So long that I'm just going to dive in and pretend like it hasn't been a hot minute.
Today is my birthday. 3 years ago, I spent my birthday in New York City with some of my oldest and dearest friends. It was one of the best, most memorable birthdays. But I had a deployed husband and no amount of fun could remove the cloud that lingers from the absence of your best friend. Today was simple, at times tiring. Yet, a beautiful smile was spread across it, embodied in my son, Moses, and the knowledge that Daddy will not go away anymore, and certainly not during his first year of life. How different things were during his sisters' first years.

Yesterday, I was sad to hear of the passing of a legend. Sad...just doesn't scratch it. Stunned. Silenced. Sobered. What do you feel when someone dies who you just can't imagine leaving? Who, although I hadn't known about long, quickly became a role model and someone I admired a lot as an artist? I didn't grow up reading comics (believe me, I tried...but getting my hands on them in southeast Asia was basically impossible) but remember how my first exposure to any sort of comic super heroes felt like meeting MY people for the first time. I knew what it felt like to be on the outside, to not feel understood, even by those who were living my same unusual life in a "foreign" country from my "home" country that felt nothing like home. You know that feeling when someone or something resonates with you (I  HOPE you do)? That was how it was and is with comics. So naturally, the first time I learned who Stan Lee was, what ideas drove his creations, I thought he was beyond the bee's knees. He is one of those people that I can honestly say, I want to be like when I "grow up," if at all possible.  

It's overwhelming sometimes when I turn a year older and think about all these amazing people who have created these amazing stories through art and writing and other means...and I wonder if my life will ever stand among them. Will I ever stand there and will someone else ever say, "I want to be her when I grow up?" I turn a year older and think, I'm so behind. But then I remember...I'm fulfilling a calling many will not understand or see as fulfilling: my kids. And the rest, my other creative voice, will hopefully come with time. More time.
I remember watching a documentary about him and they said Peter Parker was always Stan Lee's real identity. There were parts of him in all of his characters. He would literally leap off of furniture to illustrate and model what he meant by different poses for the other artists. But Peter was always the real Stan.

And as sad (that sad again...) as I am to see him go, to feel his absence, I know he was ready to pass the baton. In fact, I feel like that was his whole life; he was constantly trying to pass the baton to anyone who would take it, to inspire new artists to tell their stories, to show that he was just a regular guy and if us regular people would just work together, what amazing worlds would we create?

And the OCD in me says, "Don't share. Don't publish this with that wonked out formatting. Wait until you can make everything freaking PERFECT. And then sit and think about it forever. Until you forget to share it again." But, thankfully, I'm not going to listen. And I'm going to hit that big friendly button, "Publish." Even though I don't feel ready or enough or even able sometimes.

So, so long, Spiderman. We will miss your light in this often dark world.