Rainbows, Memories, and EMDR: A Window to Sana

Rainbows, Memories, and EMDR: A Window to Sana I saw a rainbow in the sky today—one of those perfect, arched rainbows you only ever seem to find in storybooks or comic strips. The kind that stretches fully across the sky like a gentle bridge between two worlds. As soon as I saw it, I thought of Sana. She would have squealed with happiness. She would’ve pointed it out, wide-eyed, the way she did with every little thing that filled her heart with wonder. Rainbows, butterflies, unicorns, Harry Potter… that was Sana’s world. A world painted in pastel hues, lit with magic, and laced with kindness. Small things made her genuinely happy—and in a world that often values more, bigger, faster—Sana held on to the quiet joy of noticing. That rainbow felt like her. A whisper of her laughter in the wind. A tiny miracle in the sky. Today was also my first EMDR session. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but as I began, everything came rushing in—every memory, every moment, every piece of her. It was like she stepped right into the room with me. I could see her, feel her presence, and speak about her as if she had just left the room moments before. The memories were so vivid, so painfully beautiful. The way she curled up with her books. The way she lit up when she talked about her students. The way she looked when she was trying to be strong but didn’t have the words to say she was hurting. They say EMDR helps you process trauma, and maybe that’s what I’m trying to do. But part of me doesn’t want to let go of these memories—they are all I have now. And when I see things like rainbows, I wonder if maybe they’re her way of saying, “I’m still here, Mama. I never really left.” Grief is a winding path. It shows up in unexpected places—in therapy sessions and in the sky above. And while healing may feel far off, moments like these remind me that Sana’s spirit still surrounds me. In rainbows. In memory. In love. And maybe that’s enough for today. 2/2