Years ago when we had our first meager vacation budget and our friends were planning first cruises and traveling internationally, I happened upon a print that I liked. After I bought it and brought it home, I discovered it was a shady view of Howard Street on Ocracoke Island. Research explained both the street's and island's history. We chose a modest duplex to rent and planned to venture to our first island.

As we announced our plans to our children, 3-year-old Drew's eyes widened at tales of Blackbeard the Pirate and a boat large enough to transport our van.

That first vacation created delicious adventures: discovering Blackbeard at Teach's Hole, eating rock candy at the Sweet Tooth, biking the village every evening and watching the lighthouse illuminate at dusk. We also decided to teach budgeting early to our children; Kathryn, Emily and Drew each received a crisp $10 bill to spend. If they spent none, the money was theirs to keep.

As soon as we unpacked the van, the coolers and the bikes, Drew was off to the Pirate's Chest store eager to find his treasure. Pirating was the theme that year for our 3-year-old. His $10 bought a pirate hat, a plastic dagger and pirate teeth that stayed in linty pants pockets when not in his mouth. Prissy Kathryn shopped and managed to find sales on jewelry. Animal lover Emily used her money just before we boarded the ferry to buy hermit crabs and supplies.

Every June followed the same routine. As our vacation budget grew, all aspects of our trip expanded too: a bigger house, bigger bikes, a Jeep to access South Point beaches. Each summer immediately after our arrival and unpacking, Drew's money pulled him back to the Pirate's Chest to find new treasure, Kathryn's jewelry collection increased every year, and we always brought a new hermit crab or two to live with Emily.

What became our last Ocracoke vacation with Drew was a treasure that we savored. Our Jeep got stuck in the sand; we played cards while watching the sun set on Pamlico Sound; we found a collection of rare shells. Drew bought a new pocket knife from the Pirate's Chest. My last moments on the island were alone with Drew on the beach. As I picked up a large sand dollar, he begged that we move permanently to the island he loved.

When any trauma hits, the cruelest part afterward is the way life remains normal for everyone else. Bills must be paid, food prepared and plans made. The mail from Ocracoke arrived just after our first painful Christmas without Drew. I asked our daughters separately if they wanted to return to Ocracoke or pick a new vacation spot for our new family. Both gave the same, immediate, teenage response: Duh? Why wouldn't we return to Ocracoke?

Return we did. For the entire first year after Drew's death, we kept all traditions in place. We needed the normalcy brought by routines. Even as we felt pain from his absence, we experienced joy in his memory. Ocracoke proved a peaceful and private place for our heavy grief.

This year, Emily finally outgrew hermit crabs. Kathryn, a first-time car owner, bought less jewelry than ever. Our teenage daughters spent more time tanning on the beach than playing in the surf. When they did, they rode Drew's pirate boogie board. When my husband needed an escape from the sun, he dug a hole for the umbrella with Drew's beach shovel. We bought flip-flops and bumper stickers at the Pirate's Chest.

As we biked along historic Howard Street, the islander's graves there now take on a more sacred meaning. We too have a grave marker with the name Howard inscribed. We too have a link with the past while having hope in our future.

Vacation remains screen porches, games, altered schedules, bikes and memories. It is also a vital link to our son. If only for seven precious days each year, Ocracoke Island remains in my family's hearts as home.

Get $150+ in coupons in every Sunday N&O. Click here for convenient home delivery.