The Divine Seven: Walking With My Protector Still
On the birthday of Daniel L. Gaskin, born on all sevens, whose spirit still walks beside me.
“Water does not resist. Water flows. It cleanses, it nourishes, and it remembers. Like the ancestors, it moves through us and with us.” — African Proverb
Today is your birthday, babe.
The second one I’ve lived without your physical presence.
But absence isn’t emptiness.
Your energy fills every space I walk into.
You were born on all sevens — a man whose life and legacy were written in divine alignment.
And seven stayed with you — in your laughter, in your loyalty, in your legacy.
Even when you transitioned from this world, it was on the 25th of the month, another 7 in disguise.
And somehow, in my own story, seven has always been there too.
Both my parents were born on the 7th of their months. My father, like you, left this world on the 25th.
Seven anchors me. Seven carries me. Seven reminds me that none of this is random.
It is alignment. It is purpose. It is protection.
The Storm and the Stillness
Last year on your birthday, I found myself in Cancun, trapped in the middle of a hurricane.
The winds screamed, the sea thrashed, and I felt like I was drowning in the chaos inside me.
For 24 hours, I was caught between the sky and the sea, both raging, both reflecting my grief.
That storm wasn’t just outside.
It was me.
But this year, it’s different.
Today, I sit by the ocean.
The waves are gentle. The birds are singing. The air is calm.
And just as always when I am closest to you, the rain came.
Not violent this time — but steady, soft, cleansing.
In African spirituality, rain is sacred.
It is the ancestors reminding us that we are loved and guided.
It is clarity falling from the sky, washing away what no longer serves.
It is a blessing and a reminder that no storm lasts forever.
Your love taught me how to survive the storm.
Your spirit is now my rain — my cleansing, my clarity, my calm.
The Divine Seven in Life and Legacy
In numerology, 7 is the seeker, the truth-teller, the one who walks between the worlds.
In African spiritual traditions, 7 is sacred — a number of protection, completion, and divine connection.
Daniel L. Gaskin lived the truth of 7, but his journey wasn’t perfect.
It was real.
He made mistakes — some big, some small.
But what defined him was not his flaws, it was his desire to seek forgiveness, to earn redemption, and to live better than his past.
He was a man with a thousand friends and just as many inside jokes.
The guy people gravitated toward, not because he was ideal, but because he was real.
People looked up to him because he spoke the truth, even when it was uncomfortable.
He protected his family fiercely and loved without limits.
He stood for something bigger than himself, even when it cost him peace.
That’s who he was — raw, loyal, and unapologetically human.
Walking the Way of 7
Walking the Way of 7 isn’t something you choose — it’s something that chooses you.
It’s the road between the earthly and the divine, the seen and the unseen.
It’s a life of truth-seeking, spiritual protection, and carrying the weight of purpose on your shoulders.
Daniel walked the Way of 7 every day of his life.
He didn’t try to fit into systems that weren’t made for him.
He built his own space.
He made his own rules.
He found his peace in places others would run from.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was present.
He wasn’t flawless, but he was fearless.
And that made him divine in a way this world rarely recognizes.
Now, I walk that path too.
Not by choice, but by destiny.
I carry the weight of this grief and the light of his legacy.
To walk the Way of 7 is to live for something greater than yourself.
To protect your people no matter what.
To love loud and fight hard.
To seek truth even when it breaks you open.
When I walk down Daniel L. Gaskin Way, whether it’s in Worcester or in my spirit, I feel him walking beside me.
I remember that this road isn’t easy, but it is mine.
It’s the road he walked first, so I would know how to follow.
Seven is the number of completion.
But my journey with him isn’t complete.
It’s still unfolding.
A Dedication
To my children — who carry his laugh, his loyalty, and his light.
To my family — who know this love and this pain just as deeply as I do.
And to every soul walking through their own storm today —
May you find your number, your signs, your peace, and your protection in places you least expect.