13 and 33 . . . a sign or just unlucky?

The number 13 has always had a bad reputation, but it never really bothered me. I dread the 13th of each month now . . . it is yet a reminder of another month that has gone by without Sean. Today it marks the 11th month and the next four weeks are quickly approaching. I am not sure how I am going to react on the next 13th.



I have always hated the number 33 . . . I don't know why but I have. If I am changing the volume on the TV and it stops on 33, I have always had to change it to 32 or 34. Last night in bed it hit me. I lost track of Sean's age . . . I thought he was 31 when he died and realized he was 32. Deployments seem to make time stand still. He was 32 when he was killed . . . his 33rd birthday was/would have been August 27, 2005. Was this some higher up sending me a message all these years about 33? Was it a superstition? It is just odd that for so many years the number 33 has seemed like a curse.