Twice in the year after my stepdad Chris died, I woke up to see I had a missed call from his cell phone — both times at 3:33 a.m. After the first call, my phone also showed I had a voicemail from him. But when I listened to the message, it was just some muffled background noise, as if someone were on the other end but not saying anything.
Since then, 333 has become a significant number for our family. We constantly catch the clock at that time and see it on receipts, boarding passes, phone numbers, buildings and license plates. I later learned that repeated number sequences like this are known as “angel numbers” — which makes the timing of those phone calls all the more special to me.