All the 13s to come

Tomorrow will be the 13-week anniversary of SOMEONE finding Owen’s body in the Petaluma River.  (Four people have now “taken credit” for finding his body, but the police know that only one person actually called 911, and we know who he is, and we know who was with him.)  Dave and I will be down at the river with flowers tomorrow morning, (and possibly “Pop” Owen’s father, and Nat, his brother) as we think of the wooden trestle where his body was retrieved, as his gravesite.  Others think of that bridge as their daily trek to and from the east to the west side of the river…and nothing more.  

What is the origin of the number 13 having some superstitious attachment to all things “spooky” or “bad”?  I don’t have the energy to look it up right now.  It seems someone recently told me that Friday the 13th was originally a day that was considered “lucky”. 

What I can tell you, without a doubt, is that Friday, June 13, 1986, was one of the luckiest days of our family’s life.  Owen was born on that day, and he always considered ANY Friday the 13th, a lucky day for him.  He looked forward to them…as they are rare, and so was he.

Since he died, our larger family/friend circle has experienced the number 13 in various and significant ways.  I’m having trouble keeping track of all these “13” signs, yet, I know them when I see them, and I PAY ATTENTION.

Owen always paid attention.  He did not always share, and that was okay.  Who could possibly share all their inner thoughts?  No one I know.

There has been only one Friday the 13th since Owen’s death.  Dave’s brother, Ken, and I went to the pipebridge that afternoon, with 13 flowers to throw into the river.  There was a group of people down there, under “the” tree by the pipebridge, hanging out and drinking (alcohol in a variety of bottles and cans) and I invited them to share in our flower-throwing ritual.  Only 2 guys came over to take one flower each.  I, of course, took this as a sign, that the others did not have a clear conscious, so could not participate.

Ken and I walked the stretch along the dirt path to the wooden trestle-bridge to offer the last of our flowers to the river in Owen’s honor.  As we looked back (south) toward the pipebridge, we noticed that those two guys had planted their flowers in the bridge.  They had not offered them to the water below.  If they knew nothing, I feel they would have tossed the flowers into the water as offerings.  They did not.  Where did they place their own sense of “knowing” of consciousness?

I said, “Look, that’s where Owen left this life, about 8 feet from the start of the pipebridge.”  We don’t have enough verifiable information to know this is absolutely true.  What I have, is my intuition.  And, I trust that far more than the Petaluma Police Department’s efforts at finding out what actually happened in the days Owen was missing.

Never mind the details.  What I know as Owen’s mother, is that he did not fear death.  He would, however, despise anyone who knows what happened, and doesn’t have the guts to tell us. 

The River.  Flowers.  And, the number 13.  This is what we have.  This is what we know.  And, Owen knows.

I wonder what we will do in the future 13s, those Friday the 13ths, all “13” anniversaries, all multiples, and the other significant 13s in their various manifestations.  Only time will tell.  Owen will let us know which ones are important.  But, we will forever be counting, and PAYING ATTENTION.


~ by Linda on August 31, 2007.

6 Responses to “All the 13s to come”

  1. 13 (1+3=4)
    4th star.
    Attention is the most expensive thing to pay.

  2. OH, of course! And again, and again, and again. Funny how you and I were both writing about paying attention – just hours apart. Love you.

  3. I’ve only got a minute and I am not sure how or why I found you but my heart goes out to you. I want to come back here and read it all and I will.

    Big, huge hugs to you from a stranger but a mother who can only imagine how you feel.

    Wishing you peace in your heart and soul.

  4. All parents imagine how we feel, and we honor the exercise, for we did it, too. No one can actually “feel” it until it happens.

    You’re going about your life in such an every-day-routine-because-we-need-to way, and then BAM, your son or daughter is dead. It can happen to anyone. You don’t have to have a certain stature or lack thereof, you only have to be living your lives. Then, this thing called “death” taps on your door, and your life changes in an unimaginable way. No rehearsal can prepare you.

    Thank you for stumbling on our blog, RubyShooZ. You and others should visit for so many reasons. I’m glad your kids are safe, and that have the energy to search for life lessons. Bless you in your quest.


  5. I pay close attention to… dragonflies. Tommy, my son… loved dragonflies. He died May 29, 2010… he died a beautiful death… I can ‘see that now’…. I couldn’t … ‘then’.

    He was running, playing, squealing, laughing with his little 3 year old son… people were watching, impressed with this over six feet tall, blonde guy who was playing with his little son, having the time of his life…. when..

    Tommy collapsed onto the sand. He died at the young age of 40, he had 2 blockages in his heart. No one knew….

    Linda, my very heart goes out to you…. and the mystery of the last moments of Owen’s life. I know your mind stays ‘there’ to try to solve it. I’ve sat here ‘feeling your words, putting myself in your shoes as much as possible for a stranger to’……… I would be ‘there’ … always trying to see, feel, sense what happened.

    I’m so impressed with how your son always told you that he had to live fast. I’m amazed that somehow he ‘knew’…. I feel your son was very special, Linda. I feel he was an angel … to give you the special feelings of loving a son named … Owen. You’ll never forget him.

    It doesn’t lessen the pain not one bit, I know. I just felt I wanted to tell you what my feelings were as I’ve been reading. I’ve been like in a ‘suspended pain, grief’…. as I read your words. It won’t go away until I go back to everyday things…. I just wanted to somehow in my words say…. I care so much.

    I hope you will visit my blog, also. I write to remember my son, my life/my colors…. so, that one day his little son, Taban…. and daughter, McKenzie… will discover to know their Granny Gee and Pa Skip. To know we were real. We don’t have opportunity to see them, know them…. their mothers go their own way. It really hurts…. life can hurt.

    I stay positive… I always look for good in bad. So, I’m not a ‘doomsday’ person…. I love the sunshine, flowers, and all things colorful, happy. However…. I write my pain… but, I try not to live it where others will see it. It’s too… personal.

    I know my comment is ‘too long’…. but, I feel I know you … from your words. In a sense I do…. I’m another grieving mother, I’m on the same path as you…. we are just meeting in passing. I wish your heart peace, sunshine, and …. happy colors.

    Love, Granny Gee/Gloria
    My primary blog where you can see photos of Tommy, us……… is:

    I hope you will follow me, as I will follow you in your journey. I’m sorry we have to be friends in sadness… but, I would be happy to be friends going forward …. on our paths to where we can cope, feel happiness again… smile again. You are alittle farther on your path than I am…. I ‘see’ the pain never leaves… I ‘feel it with my very heart’.

  6. I just read that May 29th… is when Owen disappeared. I read several times to be sure I was reading right…. Tommy died on Saturday evening at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina on May 29, 2010…..

    I was thinking how unusual… Granny Gee/Gloria

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