Every year my family spends the 4th of July with our closest and dearest friends, the Browns. They have been in my life since I was two, they were our neighbors when my family lived in Moline, and they continue to be significant people in my adult life. Ever since I can remember, our families have spent this holiday together. When my sisters and I were young, my parents would take us to our great aunt and uncles farm for fireworks, and the Browns would join us. Us girls and their two boys, would spend the evening exploring the barns, playing hide-n-seek, and shooting fireworks into the night, sweaty, dirty, and running wild off sugar. When both of our families decided to move out of that neighborhood in 2000, my parents began hosting their own 4th of July parties at our new farm, and the Browns would join us. After stints of not seeing each other for months on end, we had to get as much playtime in as we could. Luckily, our parents recognized the importance of our friendships, not only for themselves, but for us kids as well, and they did their best to keep us all connected. I'll always be grateful for the friendships they encouraged between us kids. However, as the years passed, and we all stumbled through our pre-teen and teenage years, we had to work harder at these friendships. I remember fits of jealousy and unspoken sadness that would infuse some of the parties, as my sisters and I brought new friends, and later boyfriends, to the parties, resulting in the boys bringing friends to keep them company. We were all so excited to see each other, but with new friends around, our willingness to be the playful kids we wanted to be with each other was overshadowed with the need to entertain the new friends. This always left us wishing we didn't invite others just to have that quality, and needed time, for our families. Up until just a couple years ago, my dad would throw his annual 4th of July party, but slowly life changed. Friendships faded, family dynamics interfered, and eventually, the party we all looked forward to was a distant memory. Flash forward a couple of years to June 2015, the month Ethan, my closest friend and the youngest of the two Brown boys, passed away. He was 25, beautiful, complex, wild, and tired. We were all heartbroken, and always will be. In an attempt to relive some of those good times, my dad decided to throw his 4th of July party, and the Browns came. With our broken hearts, we did our best to carry on, silently remembering the times Ethan had joined us and the smiles he brought us. That was the last 4th of July party my parents hosted. The following year, our families decided it would be best to spend that day together, just the Browns and Binghams, and it's been a tradition ever since. We go swimming, play yard games, enjoy some adult beverages, eat delicious food, listen to oldies, reminisce about the good times, and make beautiful new memories as the day unfolds. And like clockwork, midway through the day, we all gather in the basement family room and rummage through bins of tie-dye shirts Ethan left behind; its a fun way to remember his colorful life and personality. Although I do love a good fireworks show and am grateful to live in this country, the 4th is now a time for us to come together, like we wish we could do more often, to rekindle our friendships, and to remind us that Ethan has, and always will, bring us together.
