222  has been in my life as far back as I can remember.  My mother was born in a house at 222 F Street in Coronado, Calif.  House was owned by my grandparents and my great-grandmother also died there.  SO all my life my mother and I would see 222 and think of my grandmother.  But others in the family noticed 222 as well.  My father would often say to my mother, “Hey, Lorraine, it is 2:22.”   So too many stories to write here.  Well, last April my father was declining and died on April 17th.  I was asleep on the sofa when the Hospice lady came to wake me and told me it was time and to come be with my dad as he passed.  I went in to check on him as he was taking his last breaths.  I hurried to my mother’s bed to wake her, grabbed a chair to put by my father’s shoulder where my mom could sit.  I sat her down and her face was directly in front of the nightstand digital clock.  Right as her rear sat in chair, the clock changed to 2:22 and the nurse heard his last heartbeat.  I honestly thought it was closer to daybreak.  A few seconds later my brother entered the room looking at his phone and said, “Mother, can you believe it is 2:22?”   That was amazing to me.  Then the next Thursday, I insisted on witnessing my dad’s cremation.  I went alone.  I was a bit flustered when I left and made a wrong turn and was a bit lost.  I looked in my rear view mirror and there was a truck with license starting with 222.   I actually watched truck park in Home Depot and took a picture of plate after driver went inside so he would not think I was nuts…..but maybe I am…haha!  I still see the number often and get the feeling that for me it means everything is ok and I am heading in the right direction.

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