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Rainbows and storms

After it would rain, my father Roger would always go outside to look for rainbows. He was fascinated by their beauty.

The day he died, I was in Harvard Square, sitting on top of the subway entrance (it was kind of a ramp thing). It had recently rained, and I looked straight down Mass Ave and saw the first perfect rainbow I had ever seen, and I knew right then, Dad had died, and sent me a last message. Ten minutes later, my friend Paul picked me up and told me the news.

I never see a rainbow without thinking he's sending me a message. Coming up on 39 years since he died, and thinking about him a lot.

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