Numbers

prime-numbersI wonder if other parents who have lost children now have a thing about numbers?  I’ve never thought of myself as a superstitious person, but what I’m about to say would rather contradict that.

Five is my golden number. It’s the age that Juliette reached, and it’s also the number of babies I’ve given birth to. I attach it to anything I want to be lucky, yet it also feels a little clandestine. To people I’ve only just met I say, ‘I’ve had five children,’ which I hope I do not have to develop into, ‘but only four are living.’ I’ve never had more than four living children. Five is the number I get away with if I can.

26. Juliette was born on the 26th March. It feels like a lovely, auspicious combination of digits.

7 is the number of people in our family, only we look like a household of 6. For the first few years after Juliette died, I couldn’t send Christmas cards because, how could I sign them off and exclude Juliette? The first ones I managed to write included her name with ours. I know lots of bereaved parents do this, but for me it very soon felt mawkish. Now I sign any family cards or presents with a pattern of seven kisses. It probably looks childish, but I don’t care. I know Juliette is ‘there.’

18. This is the worst number. I try to avoid arranging anything important on the 18th of any month. Even hearing of an 18th birthday, because of the digits, makes me feel a little sick.

2002. This is an odd one, and was the first to make me wonder about my thoughts and behaviour. I quite often fill my car with £20 of diesel, but if I misjudge the pump and it stops at 20:02, I have to keep going until it reaches £30. Eleven years on, that’s a bit insane, isn’t it?

5 thoughts on “Numbers

  1. I wrote a whole post explaining how Philip communicates with numbers (if you want to read it, it’s here: http://forphilip.com/2013/09/21/a-smidgen/) It’s every day, and every day I have a new story. And the numbers also have to do with Philip’s age. I’ve so many stories I couldn’t possibly write them all or I’d bore everyone to death, so I keep a log of them. (Although Thanksgiving was so incredible, I did write about what happened then ;o) Philip came to teach me what death isn’t. They are here and they’re letting us know.

    Which doesn’t stop us from yearning for their physical presence, doesn’t plug up the hole in our hearts.

    Peace to you in this season.

    Reply

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