The oncologist said there was nothing left to try. He suggested hospice. Rachel slowly nodded her agreement. Todd leaned close and gently whispered in his wife’s ear. I bowed my head and wept.

Rachel, Todd, and the kids came to my home, to Rachel’s childhood home. I sat next to her bed that night. She opened her eyes in the early morning hours and said, “Dad, go lie down.” As her strength continued to ebb, her lifelong smile faded. I held her hand and wept again.

The next day, Todd took the kids home briefly to clean up, change clothes, and pick up necessary items. Before he returned, Rachel passed.

A long-time friend arrived a few minutes after Rachel took her last breath. “I have to tell you something,” she said excitedly. She showed me a video as she explained. “I saw a rainbow centered directly over your house.” She felt it was a sign from Rachel.

I don’t often notice rainbows in the dry desert climate of Utah, even when it’s raining. I thought her sighting was noteworthy.

“I didn’t know it was raining,” I said.

“It’s not!” she said.

Just as my friend stopped speaking, Todd arrived. He went immediately to his wife’s bedside. As he held her, he independently described the same rainbow in the same location and spoke of the comforting feeling it gave him.

That evening, Rachel’s younger sister, Rebekah, lamented that Todd hadn’t been at his wife’s side when she passed. Then Rebekah heard a voice in her heart say, “If he’d been there, he wouldn’t have seen my rainbow.”

When Rebekah shared her experience with Todd, he responded, “Oh my goodness. I love that! When we were at the oncologist office, right after she got put on hospice, I whispered in her ear and asked her to let me know she was okay after she passed. I truly believe the rainbow was exactly that. It means everything to me.”