I have always been just a little bit superstitious, especially about numbers. One of my "lucky" numbers is eleven (mainly because it is the month I was born), and I've always been one of the "those" girls who kisses the clock for good luck if I happen to glance at the time when it reads 11:11.
Because Rip was born via a scheduled c-section, I knew in advance that his birthday would be 11/11 and I was thrilled. Surely this was a good sign.
Among the other ways I felt betrayed after he died, it seemed as if even my lucky number turned against me.
And then it started turning up everywhere. At first I thought maybe it was like "new car syndrome", you know when you get a new car and then you see that car all over the road when you never noticed it before? If I looked at a clock, it was 11:11, if I went to the gym the treadmill was stopped at 11:11, if I got change buying lunch...yep, $11.11.
Not long after this phenomenon began, someone told me they believed that when you lose a person you love, that person will "check" on you from time to time. I believe that those numbers, eleven eleven, are Rip's way of telling me that he is okay. I've realized that I still have my lucky number, it just means a lot more now. Rip's birthday was a lucky day, probably the best I have ever had, regardless of everything that happened before or after.
This may all seem a little far fetched...and it is. But I think if you will look at this, the first post I wrote after we lost Rip, the time stamp gives me a little more credibility.
I've started kissing the clock at 11:11 again, not for luck, but as a thank you.