I was a teenager in the nineties, so before we had cellphones, I had a pager.
I loved my pager. It was light blue and I used some glittery nail polish to paint the clip that stuck out of my pocket so it would sparkle in the sun. (So embarrassing, I know!) We could do a lot on our pagers, before texting. I actually got asked to prom on a pager. 177177-4017-60-70-9120177-177178-1773. This is not a drill, and yes, I know how silly it seems now!
We used the numbers on a phone to makeshift spell out words, and little numeric codes that stood for phrases. A great example of this is “143,” which my boyfriends used to page me all the time. If you don’t know, you’re probably too young, but 143 means “I love you.” (“I” is one letter, “love” is four, and “you” is three. I’m telling you, we used to be a lot more creative in our communication.)
A couple of years ago, I saw the Mr. Rogers documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor” with a friend. It turned out that 143 was his favorite number sequence, and that he weighed 143 pounds almost every day of his life. He viewed it as a little nudge from the universe every time he saw the sequence.
I’m not super into number sequences the way that other people are (11:11 for example, or people seeing 1234), but I did notice after I saw the film that I was seeing 143 in little weird places, and it always made me smile. I really didn’t make it mean more than that.
Until Tim died.
It happened in the hospital first. He was dying, and his heart rate was all over the place at first, because his body was fighting. Once he was pronounced brain dead, and we said we wanted his viable organs to be donated, the hospital put him on some medication to stabilize his heart.
Then his blood pressure started doing it.
Let me clarify that I noticed these things happening, but I was not like, “Oh wow, look at these incredible signs! Tim is fine on the other side!”
Not even close. Quite the opposite.
Any spiritual faith I had shattered when they said he was brain dead. Gone. Instantly.
And that was despite being in this weird phase of reading spiritual books all year. (I, at the time, thought I completely “randomly” started to get super into near death experiences and what happens to us when we die, both from a spiritual and quantum physics perspective, and read 30 books before Tim died on these subjects in 2019. But that will have to be saved for another time.)
But these 143s that showed up pretty consistently on his monitor did absolutely nothing to convince me that he was fine, floating among us, crossed over. The suddenness and tragedy around his passing actually wiped out any spiritual/energy-cannot-be-destroyed hope that I had.
Until they kept showing up.
I saw it in books I read.
I saw it in the prices of things, or bank account balances.
Remember, he’s only been gone for two months. And these photos have all been taken by me. It’s not like I’m scouring the super magical 143 site to make my point.
I’ll keep going.
I naturally saw 143 in social media, and in other weird formats.
I mean, this is crazy right? All of this in two months, mostly concentrated in the first six weeks he was gone.
But wait! There’s more.
Of course I see it in the time of day. But I feel like that’s an easy one.
Okay, okay, okay — you get the point. There are also examples I have that could not be photographed; things people said verbally or numbers that changed before I could pull out a phone to take a picture. (Example: at the grocery store yesterday, my total was $143.43 before I entered in my Ralph’s Club card and the total went down to $119. This happens to me all the time before I have a chance to snap a photo; it’s infuriating.)
Without exaggerating, I see the sequence 143 at least two times a day, and often many more. It made me feel crazy, until I started saving the examples on my phone. Then, I started to think, maybe, just maybe, Tim was trying to let me know he was alright. Maybe. At this point, I still wasn’t convinced.
The clearest example I have of a 143 moment happened two weeks ago at Disneyland.
You can time your alarm systems to the clock at Small World. Need to be somewhere? The clock at Small World is always accurate. During the holidays, when you want to see Small World’s Christmas lights turn on, you’d better be there by 5:15pm on the dot, because you will miss that amazing sh!t if you’re not.
I take my daughter to Disneyland every week. She is three. That means, unfortunately, that Small World is her favorite ride. We spend a lot of time hanging out there in line. We are sort of Small World experts. (What really and truly makes me laugh about this is that Tim HATED Small World. He literally called it “perverse naked dancing babies.”)
So someone please explain to me why, in line two weeks ago, the characters started coming out at 1:43pm, instead of the accurate 1:45pm PST? Because I’ve never seen it before, nor have I seen it since. The Small World clock is as reliable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
Don’t believe me? Thank goodness there’s a time stamp on all photos, because I honestly didn’t believe myself either.
After all of these 143s, I finally said to my (atheist, super logical/not at all spiritual or sentimental) husband, “One of four things is going on.”
“I’m listening,” he said.
“I’ve either lost my mind, or this is a simulation, or law of attraction is real, or there’s life after death. And I honestly don’t know which one it is.”
Like I said, if it was just 143, I wouldn’t be convinced.
But then it started happening with bridges, too.
Which I will talk all about in my next post.