Chapter One

It has been two years since the first time I wrote here about my son, Brett’s rainbow.

Brett presented me with his rainbow in January of 1980.  He was a fierce little six-year-old artist at the time,  and his rainbow was a spectacular drawing that incorporated all sixty-four colors in his box of Crayolas and occupied two thirds of a sheet of drawing paper in a triangular pattern that filled the lower right with his wild and colorful enthusiasm.  Halfway up the  last band of color were some tiny black specks.  ”What are these?” I asked the artist.

“Those are tents,” he replied.  ”This is the rainbow where the brave knights go to camp.  They’re sad when they go there because they know they’ll be gone for a very long time; but when they get there, it’s so beautiful that they never want to come back.”

Two weeks later, in a split second encounter with a car, Brett was gone.

The days that followed were bleak to say the least.  When I finally came to the point where I sorted through the few things Brett had left behind, I ran across his rainbow drawing and remembered his words.  From that day on, I found comfort in picturing him with the other brave knights in his tent on a rainbow.

The years passed and somewhere amid the moves and changes in my life, that drawing found a new home.  Although I would love to see it again, it really doesn’t matter because it is etched on my heart.  Whenever I see a rainbow, I squint a little and swear I can see my son waving from a tent near his campfire.

Chapter Two

If I were to write a second chapter of this story, I would tell you about the tiny stem of jade tree that came in a planter from a friend as an expression of sympathy when Brett died.  Of the several varieties of greenery in that pot, the jade was the only one that survived my grief.  It became for me a symbol of my survival, and I tended it for more than thirty-one years.  It branched and grew and finally occupied a 12-inch pot.  Each year on Brett’s birthday I would take a cutting and start a new plant as a reminder that life goes on.  The cutting this year did not take root, and for the first time I had no new plant to pass along to a friend.  Suddenly, this October, the jade began to drop its leaves.  Its stems grew hollow and its branches fell.  No matter what I tried, it simply seemed that its time was done.  As I emptied the soil from its pot into the garden, I thought, ‘I suppose I just didn’t need it any more.’

Chapter Three

Each Monday morning I meet with a wonderful group of women for a learning opportunity we call Healing Mondays.  Together we explore our separate journeys, our shared passion for healing, and our love and support for one another.  On one Monday this Fall, we were talking about matters of life and death — of living and dying.  During our discussion, the time seemed right to share the story of my son and his rainbow.  It gave me delight to see that it connected with my friends, and I was pleased that his story still could touch people with its strength and hope.

Chapter Three

Sometimes in life a door closes.  Sometimes a window opens.  As we learn about letting go, we discover that it often is followed by the chance to embrace something new with arms wide open and available.  I released my son to his campsite on the rainbow and he is with me always.  I released his drawing to the whims of life and carry it etched on my heart.  I released the jade tree that was the symbol of my survival and learned that I could stand without it.  My arms were free to embrace something new; and yesterday a window opened to a surprise that touched my soul and made my heart sing.

Stephanie Murphy is a gifted mosaic artist.  She arrived yesterday with seven packages and presented one to each member of our group.  As we opened them, she told us that she had taken the story of Brett’s Rainbow and meditated as she created our gifts.  Here is what came to me yesterday to fill my open heart with joy.

If you look closely, you will see that mine — and only mine — has a small, triangular tent on each band of color.

Don’t be sad when you hear a door close.  Look for the open window and climb through it.  There is a lot of joy on the other side.