Summer Scrapbook

We’ll always look back on this summer as the summer when Mark’s brother Paul died. With that memory there is grief and sadness, but also a tender reminder of the gift of life and family. Mark traveled out to Ohio late spring to spend time with his oldest brother and to say goodbye. They knew it would be their last earthly meeting.

What do you say to one of the few people that have been in your life forever? What do you tell your kid brother? Paul told Mark — make memories with your family. Spend time together, have adventures together, live life together. For Paul, those were the moments that sustained him as he faced the end. Mark came home and talked about time together with Paul, Cully, and the kids gathered around his hospital bed sharing stories and laughs from various vacations, adventures and misadventures from the scrapbooks in their hearts.

It always sucks to learn lessons the hard way— the grief, agony and loss way. However, the dark valley moments lead you to truly feeling the sun on your face. It strips away all the surface stuff we let rattle around in our heads and hearts. This summer we sought and sometimes fought to make those memories together. Juggling two working parents, summer break and all the effort that goes into getting four people anywhere for any length of time — it wasn’t always pretty. It was actually rarely pretty, but it was good. We added to our list of memories and misadventures, we held on a little tighter and sometimes even spoke a little sweeter.

Yes, it was the summer where we traveled out to Ohio for Watson Fest 2014, explored San Francisco with my dad and camped out with some of our Westmont crew…

…but the memories are found in the smaller moments — Matt and Abby leading the kids through Columbus Zoo reliving their own childhood memories, Mara and Vivian sharing story time with Clara and our hearts longing for Grace, the kids telling almost 75-year-old Aunt Ann that she’s in “great shape,” and Grandpa Watson showing the grandkids magic tricks he tried on his own boys back in the day.

Driving over the Golden Gate bridge in a convertible bus watching Clara look up to the blue sky and steel, my dad sharing family stories that date back to the 1906 earthquake, a night walk down Post Street to the sound of a bagpiper playing Amazing Grace and hearing Ben cheer and whoop at the Giants’ game (even if we lost), beaming with pride as someone told him he was, “the #1 fan of the game.”

Transitioning from beginner campers to experienced campers who sort of/kind of knew what they're doing, gathering around a fire with the old, true friends where conversation comes easy and honest, the patience of community tolerating you before that first cup of coffee, falling asleep looking at the stars above your tent and the privilege of living life in all of it’s stages together, the love and laughter helping to soothe the rougher edges.

It will be the summer we held our tribe of four close, grew up some together, frayed each other's nerves, and made some pretty good memories. I think Paul would tell his kid brother that he made a good summer. Especially after spending time with Abby, Matt and Cully this summer, we wish we could tell Paul that he made a good life — a feast of year-around memories with those he loved most.