I believe in the magic of Rainbows. I can smell, feel, taste them from worlds away. The past three years of sojourning with grief has strengthened my connection with these divine gifts of the sky.
The day after my 14 year old son died, my mother and father and I drove through the state of Arizona; from the remote desert location by the lake where my baby had just spread his wings, back to the city where my family resides.
Driving across that vast and magical desert on that day was a time travel of its own dimension. Encapsulated in shock and trauma, suspended in the mystical, other-worldly portal of Birth and Death.
The Storm of our lifetime was upon us; and driving that desert highway was like floating with the Mother of all Rainbows.
Naturally, the song, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" serendipitously played over the radio, as a magnificent rainbow spread across the Arizona sky's horizon. It was glory and agony, beauty and pain in its fullest and most raw expression.
Rainbows bring hope, inspiration … they boost morale and remind promise of another new day.
And they deliver, precisely, when needed.
Sawyer and I loved hunting for rainbows. The thrill of their potential, the power of the conjuring storms.
But what happens when all the elements are in play … when all the pieces of the magic trick seemingly add up. When your gut wants to ‘know’ that your eyes will land on the prize when your logistical senses ration they should, and our sight falls short only on cloudy skies and rainy days?
I am reminded of the passing of a particular storm, after which Sawyer and I looked far and wide for its display of color in the sky … all parts of the equation added up … the intensity of the sun’s light; the density of its opposing moistures, precipitations and darkness; the angles of it all … and mostly, the belief and the yearning for its rainbow to be … we climbed atop our RV's roof, knowing the sighting would come …. Alas, our eyes landed not on a rainbow; our predictions left unproven.
We stood in that Spring’s rain, baffled, yet intrigued.
For, at that point in our journey, our refuge and solace in the sun’s forever return was unwavering.
To believe and trust in the magical ways of the Universe, and its rainbows, we must have faith; and trust the timing of life's storms … I took the opportunity to teach him some of the science behind it all, while ultimately landing
on surrender to the Maker.
We did not see a rainbow that Spring day; however, our faith of its return remained unshakeable. We knew that together, we could weather any storm; that it too shall pass; and that our sky would light up in color once again.
Our eyes need not land on the colors for our hearts to know the omnipresence of the magic. I choose to trust; I choose to believe; I choose to have faith in the divinity of it all; and I continue the diligent awaiting of the next Rainbow.
Surviving child loss is an infinite vacillation of brutal storms of varying extents, and breaks in between. Though the pause may be brief and just enough to catch your breath, I've not once doubted the promised reprieve of a passing storm.
The bigger the storm, the brighter the rainbow; the greater the destruction, the greater potential for creation; the deeper the suffering, the deeper the love on the other side. I hold on to this knowledge tightly; it is my faith in the rainbow on the other side that gets me through the gales.
"Someday I'll wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney top that's where you'll find me
Oh, somewhere over the rainbow way up high
And the dream that you dare to
Why, oh why can't I?"
This is beautiful 🌈