But, that is not what I wanted to confess to you today. It's about the number 49 and how it seems to be a curse in our family, although I'm the only one that has figured this out. Maybe other family members would disagree but when all of these events are put together it will make most people wonder, curse or coincidence?
I can't say how far back this goes as I don't have all the information so I will start where it all starts for me. In this instance the number 49 refers to age;
when my grandmother was 49 she became a widow,
when my father was 49 his mother passed (the same one as above),
when my brother was 49 our mother passed,
when I was 49 our father passed,
also when I was 49 and just a few weeks from my 50th birthday I was on my way into town to pick up the mail. As I went around a tight corner there was a huge logging truck, fully loaded, coming too fast around the corner in the opposite direction, he was in my lane. There was no where to go so I simply stopped and waited, expecting the worse. At the last moment he swerved and barely brushed my car. I was so shaken up that I just sat for a few minutes. In my stress I had an entirely different scene play out in my mind. In my mind's eye I was hit by the truck and instantly deceased, I saw the aid cars and fire trucks at the scene, I saw them look inside the car and proclaim that there was no way I could have survived. I saw them throw a huge tarp over my car just as my husband was driving by on his way home from work.
I was so shaken up over this that I have no memory of going to the post office or driving home where my hubby was waiting, with the mail in his hands. I told him I had planned to go to the post office and was surprised he had the mail. He stated that he picked up the mail and was running late because of a horrible accident on the exit. He said a logging truck had been speeding and had hit some one, it looked really bad. This was the same exit that I had been on.
There were times over the next few weeks that I felt so out of sorts that I would literally ask my husband if I was 'dead,' if I was just imagining being alive and he was part of my imagination. He always tried to reassure me that I was indeed on this planet and we were fine. Several weeks later, while still feeling out of sorts, I had a heart attack. I have an obsession with the 49, and not a healthy one at that.
What about you? Any confessions today?
be well, be strong, have courage...