24

I've never been a numbers person, so I try not to think of numbers having signifance, especially where sadness is concerned. 

I used to love the number "24" as it was the day I was married on June 24, 1989.  I still try to see that number as positive.  Unfortunately, it's also a number I now want to avoid.  The 24th is also the day Jason died after a long weekend with his body fighting against itself.  His brain wasn't working, but his heart kept beating with a new valve.

Every month, I don't go, "okay, tomorrow.  I'm going to be depressed tomorrow because it's the 24th."  I've had good "24ths" since Jason died.  It's only a month until I face the second anniversary of Jason's death and I already feel heavy-hearted.  But, I won't be laying in bed as it is tempting to do.  I'll get a "meatball marinara" sub--footlong and watch a movie he especially loved.  I'll work on my writing and go down to the waterfront with the beautiful promenade and pier. 

Why does a number seem to come to mind even though I have so many positive memories of another "24"?  I can use this day to let the clouds hang over me or I can Thank God for the gift of having him for the time I did.