Hey, decided I’d join this site to post our story.

I’m 17 years old, after my dad left my mom and I, mom found another man. He was amazing, he always said it was me who he fell for first. I was 2 when they started dating, he would help out my mom. He was like a father to me from the start. He’s the reason I am who I am today, the reason I haven’t touched a drug or smoked. He’s the reason I am as athletic and into sports as I am. He’s the reason I’ve experienced all the great things in my life.

My step father was very outgoing, very fun to be around, he could make a friend anywhere, anyone who met him loved him. He worked hard, had fun. When he first told me the story, years ago, how he had seen the number 222 a lot during the nights when he’d wake up and see the clock. It frightened him, he didn’t know what to think of it. Of course then, there was no sites like this for him to talk about it, or find out what it meant. A couple years ago, his best friend had shot himself. Some of his ashes were buried at mile marker 222. This freaked him out quite a bit, he still would see it a lot during the nights, he started to tell the story about how he seen this number all the time. Anyone who knew my step dad would love to hear him talk, about anything. He loved music a lot, it’s one of the great things he’s passed on to me. He’d love anyone who would listen to him talk about his music, and who’d share music with him. Sometimes I would be around to hear him talk about the way he’d see the number frequently to his friends. It would send shivers down my spine. I could tell his audience felt the same. He had such a way with words. As time went on, of course we saw the number more and more. My mother had told me one day as they were driving on my step father’s Harley, his pride, that he had told her to remember the number 222. That he didn’t know if it were bad or good, but to remember it.

Recently, the man who is the reason for our family, has left too early, at the age of 42. Leaving behind his wife, daughter, I. We got the call earlier in the night from his friends saying that he’d gone missing for about 24 hours. I knew it wasn’t right. I knew he didn’t just go missing. We decided to not worry about it, he’d show up. Around 2:22 in the morning, 2 police officers showed up on our steps on the 2nd day of the 2nd month. The man we loved had died. From reasons irrelevant to the subject. Over 1000 people showed up to his funeral. His ashes now in our house. We still see 222 everywhere, even more now that he’s gone. My little sister, his daughter sees it the most, she’s pretty much obsessed with it. She’ll always point it out, even when I already see it. We went through all of his stuff. We found many of the number 222. Including on his ID car for work. “Emergency Number: 222″ with his picture beside it. Every time I see that number on the clock I take the whole minute to think about him. I’ll never forget the number. Especially since I have a tattoo on my back in memory of my father. With the number 222 on the brick wall that represents my life, the giant hole that has been blown out, with the stairway to heaven, an angel seen through it. R.I.P. T.K.G.