For a long time, I thought rainbows were just beautiful arcs in the sky. I also believed in fairy tale endings and that good partners and parents would enjoy long lives. But then cancer invaded our world—my partner’s mind—and my faith in those notions shattered.
Throughout our relationship, my partner was my refuge. I knew that if he couldn’t catch me before I fell, he would provide a softer landing. He was my safe haven, a rare treasure I recognized from the start, something many people never get to experience.
I never feared hitting rock bottom with him by my side. But then he passed away, and I found myself teetering dangerously close to that bottom far too often. It’s no surprise that life as a young widow and single parent is exhausting even on the best days, let alone the worst ones.
On those tough days, when the sharp edges of despair loom large, my partner sends me a sign. Sometimes, it’s two. A rainbow appears just when I need that gentle reminder of hope.
It’s important to clarify that I didn’t randomly decide every rainbow I encountered was a message. Rainbows accompanied us throughout his battle with brain cancer.
It all began on November 15, 2016, the day we received the results of his first post-treatment MRI. That afternoon, a rainbow stretched across my neighborhood. I snapped a photo and sent it to him, declaring it our sign that everything would be fine.
And it was—at least for that day. The MRI results were clear; the tumor that had been removed five months earlier had not returned after surgery and treatment. We celebrated.
However, joy turned to horror just three months later when a new tumor appeared, plunging us back into our nightmare—full speed ahead.
Yet, rainbows remained. On July 3, 2017, an MRI revealed a third tumor. Heartbroken, we sat at a restaurant contemplating whether we had the strength to keep fighting. Dark clouds gathered and rain fell, only for the sun to burst through, revealing not one, but three rainbows. Three rainbows for three tumors. I told my partner this was our message, just like before. He pulled out his phone and called his mother, sharing, “Jenna said, ‘Three tumors, three rainbows, and we’re done.’” I’ll always remember the glimmer of hope in his voice.
He passed away less than a year later, shortly after those three rainbows illuminated the gloomy sky.
Although rainbows and hope couldn’t save him, they became our symbol of resilience during his twenty-month battle with cancer. Scratch that—they are still our symbol of hope. I continue to see them when I need encouragement the most. On the three-month anniversary of his passing, a rainbow filled the sky. Another appeared on the six-month mark, and one showed up at my daughter’s feet on her first day at sleepaway camp. There was even a rainbow on my partner’s first birthday after his death and a double rainbow after I finished unpacking the last box in our new home.
It’s also vital to mention that I do not identify with any particular religion; my beliefs are complex. They were challenging before his death and have only grown more complicated since. (The memories of telling my children about their father’s death and watching them walk behind his casket make religious thoughts feel tangled.)
However, I do believe in something greater: the universe. I feel that the universe sends signs and that my partner’s spirit communicates with me.
On a day when the burdens of widowhood and single parenting had me in tears on the sidewalk, a rainbow appeared in an otherwise clear sky. It didn’t belong there, yet there it was. Some might argue it was just a coincidence, maybe moisture in the air led to it. Perhaps. But I will always believe that the rainbow showed up because my partner knew I needed him—that was his way of reminding me I wasn’t alone, that he was still my safe landing.
Some might say the rainbows are just coincidences, that I notice them more when I’m actively looking for them. That might sound reasonable. Yet, I am willing to embrace the “woo-woo” belief, for it brings me comfort and lessens my loneliness. I’ll take that irrationality if it means feeling his presence in some small way, even if it’s merely a trick of the light.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt reflection, Jenna Brooks shares her journey of loss and hope after the death of her partner due to brain cancer. Through rainbows that appeared during their struggle and beyond, Jenna finds signs of comfort and encouragement, illustrating how she copes with widowhood and parenting alone. She emphasizes the importance of believing in something greater and how these moments help her feel connected to her late partner.