On the day we memorialized my mother in La Jolla, a double rainbow appeared over the Pacific Ocean. My older brother Tad took the photo above, a few hours before the celebration.

Maybe it was the accumulated sleep deprivation, maybe it was the cresting waves of emotion… or maybe Mother Nature decided to show us that even in the face of grief, there is beauty in the world — beauty that reminds you why you live and breathe despite the crushing, suffocating pain of loss.

A week has passed since we returned from San Diego where we buried my mother. The yahrzeit candle on our kitchen table is not quite spent as I write this.

It’s been the worst of years but also the best.

Daughter Georgia, violist and soon to be 14, made the cut for all-region orchestra earlier this year (wow!) and she’s been enjoying Houston Youth Symphony, another new feather in her musical cap. She’s also been playing electric bass.

Daughter Lila Jane, cellist and going on 13, is excited for first chair at this year’s varsity holiday concert. But even brighter in her life is the incoming 3/4-size cello that her former teacher is lending us until she grows into a full-size. Her current teacher got together with the former: they are both so impressed by her natural ability, they told me, they felt she needs a better instrument.

This was the year that the tariffs reshaped the European wine industry in the U.S. It’s also been a year where wine sales have dropped precipitously, including for domestic wine production.

But this year was also a year of miracles: the collapse of my industry and career dovetailed with Tracie’s growing success as a realtor (poo, poo, poo!). We’ve never had more financial security than ever before thanks to my brilliant and incredibly hard-working partner. I love her and the girls so much.

I’m thinking about that double rainbow as we prepare to leave for Orange, Texas where we’ll celebrate the holiday with Tracie’s family (aunt Ida is hosting this year, for a change).

I remember a line I once read in a prayer book during Yom Kippur: nothing, said the rebbe, heals like a broken heart.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.