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For a long time, I thought rainbows were just simple phenomena in the sky. I also believed in happy endings and that good partners and parents would live long, fulfilling lives. Then, cancer invaded our world—my partner’s mind—and my faith in those beliefs shattered.
Throughout our relationship, my partner was my safe haven. I knew that even if he couldn’t catch me before I fell, he would cushion my descent. From the very start, I recognized the rarity and value of that kind of support, something that many people search for their entire lives.
I never feared hitting rock bottom with him by my side. But after he passed away, I found myself perilously close to that bottom far too often. It’s no surprise; navigating life as a young widow and solo parent is exhausting, both on good days and indescribably challenging on bad ones.
On those particularly tough days, when the jagged edges of despair loom large, I feel my partner sending me a sign. Often, it comes in the form of a rainbow, appearing just when I need it most.
It’s essential to mention that I didn’t simply decide that every rainbow I encountered was a sign. Rainbows accompanied us throughout his battle with brain cancer. The first significant one emerged on November 15, 2016—the day we received the results of his first post-treatment MRI. That afternoon, a rainbow stretched over our neighborhood. I snapped a picture and texted it to my partner, declaring it our sign that everything would be okay.
And for that day, it was okay. The MRI results were clear; the brain tumor he had been diagnosed with five months earlier had not returned after surgery and subsequent treatment. We celebrated, but our joy was short-lived. Just three months later, another tumor appeared, and our nightmare re-ignited at full speed.
Yet, rainbows continued to grace our lives. On July 3, 2017, a third tumor was revealed, along with a third rainbow appearing that very day. As we sat in a restaurant, heartbroken and questioning our strength to fight, the sky darkened, rain poured, and then, suddenly, the sun emerged, casting three rainbows across the sky. I told my partner, “This is our sign.” He called his mother, thrilled with the hope the rainbows represented.
He passed away less than a year after that fateful day. While rainbows and hope didn’t save him from the grips of terminal brain cancer, for the twenty months of his battle, they became our symbols of hope.
Rainbows are still my sign of hope. On the three-month anniversary of his death, a rainbow illuminated the sky, and another appeared on the six-month mark. There was even a rainbow in a puddle at my daughter’s feet on her first day of sleepaway camp. These moments remind me that I’m not alone in this journey, that his spirit continues to send me messages.
It’s crucial to clarify that I don’t consider myself religious—my beliefs are complex and have only deepened since his passing. However, I do believe in the universe and that it offers signs. On a day when the burden of widowhood and solo parenting brought me to tears, a rainbow appeared in an otherwise clear sky—an anomaly that I couldn’t ignore.
Some might argue it was merely coincidental or that I’m only noticing rainbows when I’m seeking comfort. That may be true, but I choose to embrace the “woo-woo” side of life, as it brings me solace and a sense of connection to my partner.
If you’re interested in exploring more about at-home insemination and related topics, check out this post at Home Insemination Kit, and for authoritative information, visit Make a Mom and NHS IVF Resources.
Summary:
This reflective piece narrates a widow’s journey of finding hope and signs from her late partner through rainbows during her grief. Despite the loss, she believes these natural phenomena serve as reminders of his enduring presence and support, helping her navigate the challenges of single parenthood while embracing her beliefs in the universe’s signs.
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