somewhere over the rainbow

I have probably written about how I associate rainbows with my father. When I see a rainbow I feel his presence. It goes back to the fall of 2010 when Agam and I returned to US after a month of activities following my father’s death. We had an evening to ourselves and so we drove to Shoreline Lake. As we made our way to the bay side, I saw a rainbow appear. It was my first smile, after I had landed in the US, after losing what was to me the most precious relationship I ever had. Since then rainbows and I have developed a strange bond.

Similar to the rainbow at Shoreline, I often see a shadow of him sitting in the back seat of my car. He appears when I need him. Of course this is all a figment of my imagination. But it helps fill a gap.

Yesterday after a tumultuous week, I finally gained some perspective and some very good advice towards the end of the day. And I felt nourished. It felt like rain on a parched dry land. My impatience with myself sometimes gets overbearing for me, and those around me. And I need this calibration from time to time. I am usually not very good about seeking help. But I did yesterday, and it made me feel better. I worry about adding to people’s troubles when I take my woes to them. I used to also worry about being judged. But with some people I don’t have that fear anymore. I am so thankful for the conversation that turned my narrative around yesterday. I secretly aspire to be that coach who has that impact on someone’s life. It’s a powerful skill. Some day, some day!

In a nut shell, when someone helps me overcome my fears and my frustrations, sometimes with myself and sometimes with the system, I feel this sense of comfort. And despite how uncomfortable I felt through the week, I settled, and I calmed down just before kicking off the long weekend.

When I am low, I always end up wondering if Papa was around, I’d just go to him with these appeals. Instead of bothering people around me with it. But I don’t have that option. So I brace myself and open up and ask for help.

On my drive back home, the car in front of me had the initials SPK in its license plate. Those are my Dad’s initials.I looked at it, and smiled. Papa was right there. Watching me deal with my insecurities, my dilemmas, and watch me seek help, and get it too, and he watched me bounce back. He was there all this time, watching me. I know that for sure. He just happens to choose his mediums from time to time. Sometimes it’s a rainbow, sometimes a shadow and sometimes in license plates.

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