Like Family

When you move “Out West”, often you are leaving behind your family. In the process of exchanging Ohio for granite cliffs, or trading Iowa for powder fields, or replacing New York with remote trails, we often lose out in close family relationships. This is tough.

Sure, visits are made. Weeks here and there. They come out and stare wide-eyed at the peaks you climb. You go back for a bit and confuse people with your goggle tan. But where is the family?

Those of us in this situation tend to gravitate towards each other, magnetized together, perhaps by the vacuum created by a lack of kin. Bonds are made, friendships formed. Holidays are spent together, traditions are built.  Instead of Aunt Martha at your dinner table on Thanksgiving, it’s the guy you skied with yesterday. Instead of church with your parents on Easter, it’s a neighborhood Egg Hunt and Bloody Mary’s at your friend’s house.  

When there is a loss in this type of community, it reverberates loudly. It stings. The loss of Craig Patterson has left a gap in this network of “family”.  We shared holidays like brothers would. He chased my kids around the yard like the crazy Uncle would. He’d recount his adventures of yesteryear like Grandpa would, and he baked biscotti like Grandma would.  Craig made people feel welcome like family. His smile beamed when listening to your latest adventure, like a proud mother. His eyes were wide, gleaming with excitement about the next adventure to come. To be in Craig’s family, all you had to do was smile back, plan the next outing, and bring your enthusiasm.

I think about you often, Craig. I feel the space that you have left in our family and community. I can only hope to fill it with the love, spirit, laughter, and adventures that you brought and shared so willingly. 

Chip DuRoss