Friday the 13th. The day when superstitious people avoid ladders, black cats get a bad reputation, and apparently the universe is plotting against us all! I've always rather liked the number 13. In fact, I was born on June 13th, 1982, and I've worn that number like a badge of honour ever since. I even specifically chose to live in a building in Manhattan because it had a 13th floor. You'd be surprised how many buildings in New York jump straight from 12 to 14, as though skipping a number somehow fools fate (which is a whole other blog post) I found the whole thing hilarious. And, frankly, if a building was brave enough to acknowledge the existence of 13, I was happy to live there. But my favourite example of our collective fear of this perfectly innocent number comes from my homeland, Ireland.
Only in Ireland: The Great Number Plate Panic of 2013
For years, Irish vehicle registration plates followed a fairly straightforward system. The year, the county initial, and the vehicle's registration number.
A Dublin-registered car in 2012, for example, would have started with 12-D.
Then came 2013. And suddenly, the idea of driving around with a registration plate with 13 was apparently disastrous. There were concerns that superstitious motorists might be reluctant to buy cars bearing the supposedly unlucky number. So, in a wonderfully Irish solution, the registration system changed. Instead of 13-D, we got 131-D for vehicles registered in the first half of 2013 and 132-D for those registered in the second half. The official change also had a practical commercial purpose: encouraging car sales throughout the year rather than concentrating them in January. But the superstition surrounding 13 certainly became part of the story. Imagine that. A whole country changing its vehicle registration system, for fear of an unlucky number so you can imagine how many death superstitions the Irish have! More on that another time…
Why Are We So Afraid of 13 Anyway?
There's actually a name for the fear of the number 13: triskaidekaphobia. Quite a mouthful for something as simple as a number. Throughout history, 12 has often represented completeness. Twelve months of the year. Twelve signs of the zodiac. Twelve apostles. Thirteen, by comparison, became the awkward extra guest at the table….lol me! The Glam Reaper!!
In Christian tradition, the Last Supper included 13 people, with Judas often associated with the unlucky thirteenth place. Friday also carries associations with the crucifixion of Jesus. Over time, these beliefs became intertwined with other folklore, helping to create the ominous reputation of Friday the 13th. There was even an old superstition that if 13 people sat down to dinner together, one of them would die within the year. Charming dinner-party conversation, isn't it?
And then, of course, Hollywood got involved.
The 1980 horror film Friday the 13th helped cement the date's reputation as something sinister. Suddenly, an ordinary Friday became a day of masked killers, impending doom and general unpleasantness. As someone who works with death for a living, I find our relationship with these superstitions endlessly interesting.
Much of our fear surrounding Friday the 13th has very little to do with the number itself. It's about uncertainty. Human beings have always tried to make sense of things we cannot control, and death is perhaps the greatest example of that. For centuries, communities developed beliefs, rituals and superstitions around dying and death. Some were rooted in religion, others in folklore, and many were simply attempts to explain the inexplicable. Growing up in Ireland, I was surrounded by a culture that had a particularly rich relationship with death. I didnt say good…I said RICH. We had wakes, rituals, stories, traditions and, yes, plenty of superstitions. Covering mirrors, stopping clocks, opening windows to allow the soul to leave, and the many beliefs surrounding birds, dreams and omens are all part of the wider tapestry of Irish death folklore. Some traditions offered comfort. Others offered explanations, and some were designed to frighten the living into behaving themselves.
In my work as a funeral celebrant and memorial planner, I've learned that people's beliefs about death are as unique as the lives they lead. Some families have deeply held religious traditions. Others follow cultural customs passed down through generations. Some are superstitious, some are spiritual, and others want absolutely nothing to do with any of it.
I've always believed that a truly meaningful farewell should reflect the person who has died and the people who loved them, rather than simply following a formula because that's how it's always been done. If a family feels uncomfortable holding a memorial on Friday the 13th, I am 100% here for that. In fact, i’ll probably encourage that for my own!
If someone wants 13 candles, 13 roses or a ceremony beginning at 1:13 because the number held special meaning for their loved one, I'd absolutely embrace that too. That's really what good memorial planning is about and what your memorial planner should be doing for you - allowing you to be you.
Not following superstition blindly. Not dismissing someone’s beliefs. But understanding what matters to people and creating something that feels authentic to them. There is no single correct way to honour a life.
Here's a thought:
We worry about unlucky dates, walking under ladders, breaking mirrors and opening umbrellas indoors.
We avoid certain numbers, floors and even days of the week.
Yet so many of us spend our lives avoiding conversations about death altogether.
We don't tell our families what we would want for our farewell.
We put off difficult conversations.
We assume there will always be another opportunity to say what matters.
Sometimes we spend so much time worrying about what might happen that we forget to enjoy what's happening right now.
BUT Death isn't something we can avoid by changing a number on a licence plate or skipping a floor in a lift.
It's part of life.
And when we become a little more comfortable acknowledging that, something rather wonderful can happen.
We begin to think more intentionally about how we're living.
Who we're spending our time with.
What we want to be remembered for.
And what kind of legacy we're creating while we're still here to enjoy it.
So, on this Friday the 13th, I'll be celebrating my favourite supposedly unlucky number and perhaps I'll raise a glass to all the things we can't control because if working in deathcare has taught me anything, it's that life is far too short to spend it being afraid of a number.
I'd rather spend my time making the days count than worrying about which ones are unlucky.
Happy Friday the 13th.
With love (and absolutely no fear of black cats),
Jennifer