Synchronism
- Erin Elliott Bryan
- Mar 30, 2019
- 3 min read
n: chronological arrangement of historical events and personages so as to indicate coincidence or coexistence
Growing up, I was extremely close to my maternal grandparents, Hank and Edna. My mother was their only child and I was their only grandchild. They lived in our same small town and I saw them nearly every day.
My grandmother didn’t drive, so my mom would pick her up and drive her wherever she needed to go. My mom didn’t work when I was young, so it was often my grandmother, my mom and I—three generations together!
I sometimes stayed overnight with my grandparents. My Grandpa Hank told the most amazing stories and took me to visit his friends. My Grandma Edna taught me about books and music and baking.
While I loved both of my grandparents more than I could ever describe, I felt a special connection to my grandmother. She was 71 by the time I was born and had waited patiently for a grandchild. Though I’m sure she would have been just as thrilled to have a grandson, the doctor told her that she got her wish for a granddaughter when I was born.
My parents honored my grandmother by naming me Erin Edna. And we were connected immediately because of our birthdays. I was born on March 10, or 3/10. My grandmother was born on October 3, or 10/3.
Early on, I understood that dates and numbers meant something and could carry a great deal of significance.
My grandparents and I remained close until they both passed away in 1996, my grandpa on June 4 and my grandma on September 15. Although they were tough goodbyes, they had lived long and full lives. It was much tougher to say goodbye to my mom, when she passed away just seven years later when I was 23.
Her death left me with a profound sense of loss. But what saddened me the most was knowing that she wouldn’t meet my future husband or enjoy our children.
When I finally met Tom, the man who eventually became my husband, we realized we shared a special date: March 10. It turned out that I shared a birthday with Tom’s grandmother, Charline. And it was also the date that Tom’s grandfather Ed, Charline’s husband, had died 10 years earlier.
By the time I met Charline, on the occasion of her 90th (and my 27th) birthday, I knew Tom and I were meant to be together. But having that incredible date connection made me believe that my mom was also telling me that I had found my person.
Sadly, Charline passed away exactly one year later, on March 10, her 91st birthday. I’m honored to carry on that special date in Tom’s family.
About two and a half years later, Tom and I did get married, on August 29, or 8/29. We didn’t necessarily have a reason to pick that date; it just happened to be a Saturday in August that our venue had available.
Four years after that, we were preparing to welcome our first child, a son. I was thrilled that he would be born in October and share a birth month with my grandmother Edna. But I received an even more poignant message from my mom, literally at the moment my son was born at 8:46 am on October 8.
When the nurse called out the time, I immediately recognized the message. My mom was born in August 1946, or 8/46, and often used 846 as part of her passwords. Through my tears of profound joy and happiness, I remember telling my husband, “That’s my mom!”
And when we were lucky enough to welcome a second child, the messages continued. My original due date for our daughter was June 4, the day my Grandpa Hank had died 21 years earlier. Seeing that date gave me an overwhelming sense of peace that everything was going to be fine.
Indeed, everything was OK, though our daughter decided to come early, on May 29. Initially, I couldn’t find a connection to that date, but when I coupled it with our son’s birthdate, October 8, I realized that our children’s birth days—8 and 29—make up our anniversary date, August 29, 8/29!
Over the years, I have managed to find unbelievable happiness with my husband and our children that I didn’t even know was possible. Every once in a while, when I see my mom in the mirror or hear her voice come out of my mouth, it stings to know that she’s no longer here and won’t experience the joy of loving her grandchildren.
But recognizing her messages gives me hope that she isn’t as far away as I once thought.
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