I Asked for a Sign. I Got Two.

After my dad died, and the weight of the world crashed down on me, I wondered what came next. In my heart, I wanted there to be more than just this life. I wanted to know dad was with God in heaven. Watching me from the skies. Smiling down. 
After returning from the hospital that exhausting, heartbreaking Saturday, I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening in my backyard. The weather had been rainy off and on all day and it seemed perfectly primed for a glorious rainbow to enfold at any minute. 
I made a deal with my dad. “Dad, if you are up there, I need a rainbow.”
And I waited. And I paced back and forth on our lawn because the rainbow might come from over the mountains that way. But maybe it will sneak in from behind the tree over there. I strained my neck from the constant back and forth. The desperate hope. The fear of missing this sign to restore my hope. To renew my faith. For my dad to tell me he was ok. 
I did not see a rainbow that day. 
I was angry a little, but mostly just sad. What does it all mean? Is dad gone forever? Is there no heaven, no God, no hope? I never felt more alone than those next few days afterwards. 
My dad and I had a deep connection. We were similar in our hearts, our characteristics, even our eyes were identical — and they say that eyes are the windows to the soul. I like think that if my dad had something to share from the afterlife, he would have done it… that day… on my terms. But he didn’t. There was no rainbow. 
My mom — married to my dad for 47 years — has also been working through dad’s death. It’s so hard to manage the logistics, the insurance calls, the questions from the mortuary, when your partner for the majority of your lifetime has died. I could see she was still drowning in it all. But the calls didn’t stop. The questions didn’t wait. 
Almost a week after that fateful Saturday, I told her about my desperate hunt for rainbows after dad’s death. How dad disappointed me by not showing me a sign that day. 
“You mean the afternoon after he died?” she puzzled. 
I looked at her with frustration. Yes. I needed a sign and I didn’t get one.
“There was a double rainbow that day, when you looked south. I thought you saw it too,” Mom said. “That’s why I didn’t even mention it.”
Dad did hear my call. He did send his sign. He sent two, in fact. He sent a double rainbow that day to my mom… who needed it most. 
I will spend the rest of my life chasing rainbows, I think. But I learned something important then. My dad will always be sending signs, but it wont only be to me. 
Thanks, dad. Glad you’re ok.