Before their parents’s death in a plane crash, a Chambers family vacation at a Rhode Island beach had been a high point of each summer. Mark had honeymooned there with Rachael, one summer they’d gone with Blythe, and he and Blythe came once after Rachael died. Perhaps there he could recover some of the joy he so desperately needed.
Mark made his reservation for the beach cottage from Monday afternoon through Thursday morning at off-season rates. He’d be willing to pay higher summer rates just to be there.
“I need time, and I have to get away,” Mark told his brother. “I’ll be back in time for Kate’s dinner on Friday night.”
He’d already closed his office in town. No sense in paying rent for something he wouldn’t use. That had been hard and sad, like a finale for the past eight years of his life.
Monday morning, he packed his suitcase, filled his car with gas, and headed for the Rhode Island shore six hours away. Already, he felt better.
(from Melody of Life, to be released 8/26/25)
My mom and dad came from Rhode Island, so when the Chambers brothers needed a special vacation spot, I decided to send them to a beach in Rhode Island. Although there are many well-known beaches along the Rhode Island shore, I chose to make up Mark’s getaway place. He returned there, looking for hope, joy, and healing after experiencing devastating loss.
Each summer, my family visited relatives in Westerly and Ashaway, Rhode Island, but we spent little time at a beach. My uncle paid for beach rights in a certain area, and my father’s family met several times at Charlestown Beach for family reunions. We avoided touristy areas because of the traffic and the expense.
One summer, I stayed with my grandparents for several weeks, and often we’d get into my grandfather’s car and drive along the Westerly shoreline. We stopped to see the family of swans in Watch Hill, the snowy white mother with her brood of gray goslings. We rode through streets of mansion-like summer homes. My favorite place along the shore was Weekapaug.
Grampy parked his car at the side of the road, and Grandma and I climbed carefully down the rocky slope to the shore. It wasn’t a swimming beach – too many rocks. But it was a wonderful place for eight-year-old me to get her toes wet as the breakers washed up on shore, to collect seashells and starfish and rocks. I still have my collection stored in a closet. This area is known for granite, and I loved the sparkly gray and white granite stones. I have fond childhood memories of the place. (This photo isn’t quite like I remember it.)
I haven’t been back to Weekapaug for many years. I know the place Grandma and I used to go isn’t accessible as it was back then. There are motels, other rentals, and beaches for summer tourists, and it’s a lovely area.
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