Numbers.  33.  40.  2.  1.  These are the numbers in and on my mind this week.  Mostly, numbers don’t mean much to me.  I’m a “words” guy. 

But, I’m a lot like the guy in the song, “Time Passages”, that Al Stewart wrote about  – “Well I’m not the kind, to live in the past, the years run too short and the days too fast.  The things that you lean on are things that don’t last.  Well it’s just now and then, my line gets cast into these Time Passages.”  This week, I find myself there, cast into these time passages, thinking about numbers.  33.  40.  2.  1.

Tomorrow is my son’s 33rd birthday.  One of his friends from school is going to come over with his Mother to celebrate with us, which will make the day nice.  My boy will enjoy hearing us sing “Happy Birthday!”, and I will enjoy blowing out the candle, and eating the cupcake his friend’s Mom is going to bring.  And he will enjoy hearing me read the wonderful story by Dr. Seuss  – “Happy Birthday To You!” – a tradition in our family for everybody’s birthday, every year, no matter how old, or young.  If you’ve been in my house, you may have seen a picture of me reading this book to him on one of his birthdays – and his joy, and mine, just leaps from the photograph.   

But turning 33 has become an extra-special birthday in our family because, as we have learned from J.R.R. Tolkien, 33 is the birthday when young Hobbits finally “come of age”.  So, tomorrow, my little “Hobbit-child” will become a grown-up.  I think I’m ok with that.  And it will be a joy-filled day, or it would be except for one thing - his mother will not be here to make our joy complete.  And lately, I have been sensing that my soon-to-be-grown-up son, rather than becoming used to her absence, and rather than forgetting about her as time passes, seems to be missing her more now than he did before.  Or maybe that’s just me projecting my thoughts onto him.    

I attended my high school 40th Reunion several years ago, and my college 40th Reunion a few years later.  And I can remember my Mother telling me before each, “Oh, this is the one to go to – when everyone is still young and strong.  By the time your 50th comes around, you will all probably be feeling your age a lot more.”  There are still a couple more years to go before the high school 50th, and four more years after that until the college 50th.  But I already know Mom was right about this, as always.          

A married couple’s 25th anniversary is called the “silver” anniversary, while the 50th is called the “golden” anniversary.  That’s common knowledge.  But I just found out today that the 40th anniversary is called the “ruby” anniversary.  This coming Sunday would have been our 40th, our ruby anniversary.   

40 years of marriage.  Where did those 40 years go?  How did they fly by so swiftly?  What would we have done to celebrate such an accomplishment?  Probably nothing elaborate or extravagant.  That wasn’t who Renee was.  But the day would have been marked in some special way. 

One of our traditions each year on our anniversary was to call my brother and his wife, whose anniversary was on the same day as ours.  They were married exactly one year before us.  It was so much fun sharing that joy-filled day with them through the years.  They celebrated their 40th last year, but I know their celebration was lessened because we had lost Renee a few months before. 

Still, they had their ruby anniversary.  Three weeks later, my brother was gone. 

So this year, Sunday isn’t going to be a big anniversary celebration for either of us.  It’s going to be just another day for my brother’s wife, and for me.  And while it is the 2nd anniversary for me without Renee, it’s going to be the 1st anniversary for my brother’s wife without him.  My guess, my hope is that these missing anniversaries will become easier for us each year.  Maybe there will be less sadness each year.  Maybe this year is harder for me because this one, the 2nd year without Renee, was supposed to have been one of the “big” ones.  Maybe.  Or maybe we just have to live through them as they come to find out if they get any easier. 

I know now, from actual experience, that this 1st anniversary without my brother will not be easy for his wife, just as this 2nd anniversary without my wife will not be easy for me.  As Harry Nilsson wrote: “One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do.  Two can be as bad as one, it’s the loneliest number since the number one.”

33.  40.  2.  1.  Just numbers.  Just lonely numbers.   

Ambrose Ramsey | Pastor & Shepherd