I watched a colorful light show of rainbows dance across the pale green room as my mind balanced on the border of depression and numbness. The magical display usually lifted my spirit by reminding me of God’s promise to the world now only served as a reminder of the brevity of life. This pessimist point of view began five days ago when my heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces as I was given the devastating diagnosis – terminal cancer.
The symptoms consisting of oppressive tiredness and nausea began two weeks ago. At the time, I thought it a bad case of the flu. So I waited for the illness to run its course. But nothing changed. Now I sit in this morgue-like prison of a hospital room mentally berating myself with thoughts of all the things I should have done differently.
“What if I had contacted the doctor earlier? Maintained a better diet?”
Although I searched for some way to have prevented this death sentence, the doctor repeatedly assured me there was nothing I could have done differently. Life had just dealt a cruel blow.
““How is this going to affect my family? How will everyone adjust to the loss?” I worried. I closed my eyes as tears slid silently down my cheeks; my heart a painful knot in my chest as I lay on the sterile hospital bed.
“Hi Mommy,” came my 4 year old daughter, Jenna’s, sweet voice rescuing me from the black hole of depression; her soft, warm hands lightly resting my checks.
“Are you okay Mommy,” she said as her angelic blue eyes studied mine.
“I’m fine honey. I just missed seeing your blue eyes.”
She smiled. “She still doesn’t really understand what’s happening,” I thought “even though we have talked about going to see Jesus and being able to hear the angels sing”.
There wasn’t much time left now. Breathing is relaxing. Life is quickly slipping away. This sweet time together will soon end forever and the world for my family will drastically and painfully change.
She seemed to be reading my thoughts with her next question.
“Mommy, will Nana be Jesus’ house?” she asked innocently.
“Yes, baby, she will. It will be so nice to see her again and get a nice, warm hug,” I reassured her. “I bet she will smell just like Wrigley’s gum. Do you remember how she always smelled like that?
“Yes. It’s because she always had some in her pocketbook,” she agreed. “Oh, look at the pretty colors Mommy.”
“Yes, I see them. Do you remember the story of the rainbow in the Bible?” I asked her.
“Uh huh,” she replied.
I closed my eyes exhausted, yawned and breathed in her sweet smell. I wanted so much to sleep but I didn’t want to miss one second with her.
“I’m sleepy Mommy,” Jenna yawned too.
“Me too,” I agreed. “Why don’t you just close your eyes and rest? I will hold you tight while you sleep.”
“Will you be here when I wake up,” she asked.
My heart broke again at her simple question. How could I tell my precious little girl soon there would be no waking up?
“I will always be here for you,” I answered hoarsely as a sob caught in my throat.
“I’m going to take a nap now Mommy,” she said and closed her eyes.
As promised, I slid closer to her and wrapped my arms around her.
“I love you Jenny,” I whispered.
Her blue eyes opened partially. “I love you too Mommy.”
Just then another rainbow from the prism hanging in the window flashed around the room. “Look Mommy, Jesus is in the rainbow,” she said pointing across the room. “Do you see him?”
“I do,” I said to comfort her even though I didn’t see Him. “He is here for you sweetheart. He wants to take you to Heaven.”
“I want you to go with me,” she sighed.
“I can’t go right now, but I’ll be there with you soon,” I assured her. “Just take His hand. He will take you over the rainbow to Heaven.”
“Come get me soon Mommy,” she said closing her eyes for the last time.
As machines registered the end of her short life, I held my daughter, wept and thanked God for saving her from the hard, long battle cancer usually brings by softly calling her home on a rainbow
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