A Rainbow

On Saturday, February 27th, I left the hospital with a reluctant feeling of despair. I had been fighting the despair for so long, but for some reason I could no longer resist. I gave in to the maddening. Helplessness. Anger. My windshield wipers whipped almost as furiously as my eyes blinked back the burning tears. I had been diligently praying and waiting for a miracle, and I was sick of being denied. I cursed. I talked to myself and my God, out loud, not caring what other afternoon drivers would think if they happened to look over. Sadness wrestled with rage for dominion.
And then I saw a rainbow. And it wasn't just a sliver of a rainbow, or the beginning of a rainbow, it was a gigantic arc that crossed over the freeway. It was so big that I initially thought it was two separate rainbows entirely. I tried to capture it with my camera phone, while keeping the wheel steady and snapping in between slices of the wipers. I had to pull over. It was stunning and my camera was in the trunk. Can you imagine the hope that surged at that moment? It was a sign, and I worry that people glaze over signs in life, or miss them, or just plain forget to look for them. Suddenly I was smiling, a crazy woman standing in the rain at the side of the freeway, hoping to capture the sign before the clouds covered it or the sun burned it out. Just like that, hope was revived.
24 hours later, she was gone. I couldn't understand it. I didn't want to accept it, and I felt deceived by that beautiful trick of nature. I was misled, by either my imagination or my need for faith, I don't know. The outcome is the truth.
One week later, I look back on that afternoon and I see something else. A symbol of promise that shined above me when I was shadowed in fear and anger. A reminder of life, and love. It shined brightly on Sunday as well, so maybe it was simply a bridge for Laura to go Home. A lovely, magnificent bridge.