11:11

There are certain moments in grief when the world feels unbearably still, and then there are moments when something breaks through that stillness with a softness that can’t be explained. For me, that “something” is 11:11.

I never noticed 11:11 until after I lost both of my brothers.  It wasn’t a number I paid attention to, and it definitely wasn’t something that showed up in my daily life. I didn’t even see it after B died.  

But after J passed, everything changed.

11:11 is everywhere.

On clocks. On receipts. On random screens. Even on stoves and microwaves in commercials. 

People say angel signs show up when the spiritual world is trying to get our attention. Some believe 11:11 is alignment, a portal, a moment where heaven leans a little closer. 

To me, 11:11 is comforting.  It’s even and balanced, and I truly believe it’s their way of telling me that they are together and still watching over me.  It’s my sign, and my Angel Number. 

Losing loved ones to suicide carries a unique kind of ache.  An ache so indescribable that only other suicide loss survivors can understand.   It’s the ache of unanswered questions, guilt, and of love that has nowhere to land.  It’s unlike any other loss.  

My mind is often a battlefield, and 11:11 brings me peace, relief, and reminds me to slow down and enjoy life.  

I will always wish they were still here. I will always carry the ache of losing them the way I did. But I also carry the signs they send.  The moments of love that feel like tiny miracles woven into my days.

11:11 is my reminder that they’re reunited, they’re at peace, and they’re still loving me from where they are.

And every time I see it, I pause. I breathe.  I smile. And for a moment, the world feels a little less heavy.