365 Days Without You…

ByJoni Bouchard
beautifulwill.jpg
My sweet Will

May 22, 2012 (… one year)

My dear little Will,

One year ago today and it feels like minutes and forever all at once.  Flashbacks, tears, trembling, it all comes back to these moments and the impact of the two little words… “I’m sorry”.  Those two words reverberate over and over in my head.  The two words every mom and dad and brother never, ever want to hear, nor should they.  The natural order of things is that it just should never happen this way; you Will, the youngest were supposed to outlive us all.  If only that were true.  As soon as those words left the mouth of the paramedic, there were unfamiliar sounds that came from deep within me, guttural really, and then panic, shock, disbelief and tears that I would not, could not stop and still cannot a year later.  At that moment, all of those emotions hung in the air while I realized that the world as I knew it only moments before was forever changed and forever gone.  I immediately began to miss you more than anything.  All the hope that I was clinging to while the two teams of EMS workers and the STARS ambulance doctors worked on you were replaced by sadness, devastation, emptiness, and a pain deep within my very being; feelings that I cannot even fully describe.  Oh Willy, when I heard the STARS helicopter in the distance, it’s whir coming closer and closer until it was above us and then landed, I thought, “OK.  Now it’ll be good.  STARS is here now.  They’ll take you and dad and me to the Children’s Hospital and it’ll all be good.”   Oh, my dear little boy, I cannot describe how that hope turned to the worst feelings of sadness that I could ever imagine and then questions and numbness.  Unbelievable numbness.  And a hole in my heart that I suddenly realized was never going to mend.  Losing you meant a part of me was lost too.  My life here will never be the same without you.   My heart still so broken.  The pain still so real.   I love you, Willy, more than one could ever imagine, more than a million buses.

Help me get through this, little blue.  Keep watching over me and Dad and your brothers.  Send us signs and smiles, and know that we will never forget you.  Always remember this, Will; you are forever a part of us and never alone.  We love you and we miss you; from the bottom of our hearts and to the very tips of our toes and then like a bus.

Momxo

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  • October Days and Little Boy Arms

    Little Boy Arms
    Little Boy Arms
    October 6, 2013 Dear Willy, Well, here it is again.  October; your birth month and one of the most difficult for me. No month is easy by any means, but October conjures up so many memories of you.  For most of your much-too-short life as soon as I turned the calendar to October the conversations would begin… “Mom, my birthday is in 14 days!”  And in the next breath, “can we plan my birthday party?  How many friends can I invite?  Can they all sleepover?  Ok. Well, can some sleepover?”  Today, remembering these conversations that would begin at the beginning of October every year now make me cry. I think back to that very special day in October 1998; to the 14th day of the month when you made your debut into this world.  You, my youngest son, were pure joy from the moment Dad and I found out that we were blessed with another son.  An easy pregnancy, an easy delivery (easy to say now!?), and such a happy and beautiful baby boy with your blonde curly hair and blue eyes. It was one of the happiest days in my life, for sure.  Having you felt like everyone in my world was now here and that my kitchen table was supposed to have five people occupy the chairs that were tucked in around it.  For the first time, I could honestly say that it felt like my family was complete. I took much pride, and still do, in being a mother to three boys. Little Nan, (papa’s mom and my grandmother) was also a mother of three boys and I always thought it was so special.  And now I, too, was a proud mama bear to three cubs.  One of the things I loved the most about all three of you, was the feel of your little boy arms around my neck and even at 12 ½ your arms, the smallest of the three of you, gave me such comfort. Right up until your angel date, I loved the tuck-me-in goodnight hugs we still shared regularly.  I don’t ever want to forget those hugs, Will, for there is just nothing quite like them. Remembering the joy you brought to all of us on the day you were born and the happiness that you brought to our lives as you grew now feels so empty and when October comes around it is especially heartbreaking. It is like you were stolen from me and I am left now with only memories of you as a boy on the cusp of becoming a teenager and a time you were looking forward to so very much.  Watching your two older brothers navigate through the teenage years gave you insight into the freedoms and privileges that were coming your way; learning to drive, girls, girls, girls, summer jobs and spending money of your own, later curfews and later bedtimes.  You certainly didn’t choose to see the “not so fun” parts like more homework, negotiations with Dad and I that wouldn’t always go as you’d hoped, losing privileges, being grounded, etc.  It was just like you to find the fun parts wherever you were. So, as I watch each of these October days come and go and as your birthday approaches I must continue to find the strength to carry on somehow. I know there will be days when grace will be lost; days where it will take all I have to just get out of bed. And then to my amazement there will be days, too, that I will somehow find a smile, feel you with me, and that I will celebrate having had you for as long as I did, even though it was much, much too short. There is not a day, Will, that I wish the outcome would have been different and that you were here with us saying, “Mom, my birthday is in 14 days!  Can we plan…” I believe it is you giving us these warm and sunny fall days and I am grateful.  I imagine it is your way of giving me those little boy hugs I miss so very much.  Beautiful October days… and little boy arms.  Thank you, Will. I miss you to the moon and love you like a bus. Momxo

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  • You Are The Boss After All

    snow front.jpg
    The snow was gone… and then this happened.

    April 14, 2021

    Dear Will,

    Amidst this crazy world I am desperately trying to say goodbye to winter and in true Willy fashion you keep mixing up snow and sending it down! These past three weeks have not gone without a considerable snowfall and then just to mess with my mind you pull out a blue sky with a sun so warm and bright that tiny green shoots poke through the snow to then throw in an hour or two of more of the dreaded flakes. Not the kind that melt on contact with the ground but at times the kind that blow sideways with the wind and feel like ball bearings are coming from the sky. Each time (and it’s been daily this week) I look up to the sky and mutter your name… at first it was with a smile, then the next time with an eye roll and a smile, the next time with a shake of my head and maybe not a smile… Each time my reaction building on itself and now I’m at the stern mother plea of “enough now”.

    So, what do I hear in return?  You giggling. (How I miss that sound). Your contagious giggle followed by the phrase you (and your brothers) were famous for when you were 4 and 5 years old.  “You’re not the boss of me”.  That phrase on many occasions was part of your power struggle when you just didn’t want to succumb to my requests. Oh boy, I remember it well. We did have to pick our battles and, quite frankly, sometimes it wasn’t worth the struggle.  Here’s some I remember…

    Me: “Will, no cookies before dinner. Even the ones in your pocket should go back in the jar.”

    You: “You’re not the boss of me.”

    (I think most times, I won this one.)

    Me: “Please get in the car, Willy. We haven’t time to ride your bike to the dentist. And, we’re gonna be late.”

    You: “You’re not the boss of me.”

    (I definitely won this one. The dentist was in another town.)

    Me: “It would be a good idea for you to put your brother’s skateboard back where you got it. Before he notices that it is missing.”

    You: “You’re not the boss of me.”

    (You won this one. Once.)

    Me: “How about we put those rubber boots away (after wearing them for three months everyday). Your flip flops just might be more comfortable with your shorts?”

    You: “You’re not the boss of me.”

    (You won this one and wore your rubber boots until you outgrew them in the fall.)

    Me: “Do you think we could leave the Batman cape in the car while we go into the grocery store?”

    You: “You’re not the boss of me.”

    (You won this one too.  On many occasions.)
    batman.jpg
    Ya, that cape. The one with the mask built in.

    So each time you poke me with more snow when I just want to see the grass turn green I am reminded that maybe now, you are the boss and that you must be lovin’ this. Knowing it drives me crazy and relishing in getting the coveted last word. Really, what could be better? Being the youngest of three boys meant it wasn’t often that you got the last word though it sure wasn’t for lack of trying. Up there, sweet boy, it appears you really are the boss. Throwing down the snow mixed with moments of blue sky and sunshine, watching me go from a winter coat and boots to a sweater and my Birkenstock’s, from wearing mittens to enjoying a cup of tea on my deck, from turning on the fireplace to opening the patio doors… what the heck, Will! As I think of what this must look like from your vantage point up there no wonder you’re giggling. Of course, you hold the boss card. Admittedly, the lesson is that it is only April and we are only onto our 4th snowstorm of Spring and I’m not holding my breath on you throwing down some more. You are the boss after all.

    A snowstorm and the sun in the same day

    As for winter and saying good riddance, I know you’re happier than a clown up there never having to say goodbye to winter.  I imagine the snow is up to your eyeballs and that your skis are close by. And the sky is bluer than blue and it’s snowing at the same time. How do you do that?  Dumb question. I guess only a boss would know.

    Doing what you loved.

    Green grass, sigh…. soon, I hope…

    But, my winter boots are still at the front door.

    I miss you, my sweet boy. More than you could ever know because there’s not a word down here that is big enough to describe that.

    And, I love you, little boss. More than a bus parked on a patch of green grass with snow up to the roof under a bluer than blue sky.

    Momxo

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  • The Warm Side of the Window

    The blanket of Willy in our backyard
    The blanket of Willy in our backyard
    March 3, 2014 Dear Will, February was a long month for me.  It’s been too cold to do much of anything outside lately, which seems to have magnified the too many days without you.  It is no secret that looking at the mounds and mounds (and mounds!) of snow makes me think of you.  Your presence is huge this winter and it is incredibly beautiful to take in the sight of the blanket of Willy that covers the ground in and around our community.  However, in these frigid temperatures after days of feeling imprisoned on the warm side of the window, I am anxious for the cold weather to leave.  Yesterday morning as I sat in the chair in front of the window that looks out at your snow-covered garden and our WillBilly tree, a quilt on my lap and my hands cupped around my mug of hot tea, I noticed the stiff, frozen branches of your tree waver in the wind… I want to believe it was you waving at me from the cold side of the window. As I am writing to you now, on what is yet another “too cold to do anything outside” kind of day, I can’t help but notice the brilliant blue sky and the way the sunshine makes the snow sparkle; it’s like you’re winking at me.  Then there’s the untouched snow that blankets the trampoline making it look like a giant marshmallow.  That snow so deep and heavy has pulled the springs towards the ground making the jumpy part stretch and curve into what looks like a giant grin.  Yup, it’s you again.  I don’t imagine the weight of the snow can be good for the trampoline but the giant smile it has created makes my heart smile with it.  Hey, speaking of marshmallows… I am just remembering how you’d like to put one on a plate and slide it into the microwave for a minute.  It would puff up multiplying in size, seemingly taking on a life of its own… another one of those edible “science projects” and the topic of another letter I’ll write to you on another day, Will.  What I remember most about those microwaved marshmallows was how hard the gooey plate was to clean! Anyways Will, as I’ve turned the calendar to March I am hopeful that the days won’t seem as long as some of the frigid February days we’ve had to endure as of late.  With the daylight hours (slowly) increasing and Spring-like weather on the horizon, soon being outside will be enjoyable again and knowing that puts a little bounce in my day.  I’ve lived in Alberta long enough to know that we’ve not seen the end of winter by any means but what I have come to expect once February has passed is that when we find ourselves in a cold snap, those deep freeze days don’t hang around for long.  Yuk, it is true the cold spell is still upon us but the forecast is for warmer weather to come our way in the next few days.  Until that happens, I will continue to look at the abundant beauty from the warm side of the window and I’ll continue to look for all the special winter Willy’s that are you. Love you like a frozen bus with square wheels, Willy.  I am missing you terribly these past few weeks.  More so than usual… if that is even possible. Momxo

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  • Our Maui Vacation with You

         Wednesday, July 22, 2015 Aloha Will, Today marks another month without you. The 22nd of every month is another tally mark and try as I might to not look at it this way it is impossible not to.  As Dad and I go about enjoying our days here in Maui you, sweet Will, are on our minds every minute. I took you on the plane with me when we left on the 12th and as you sat on my left shoulder where I’m told the boy angels sit I thought about how I longed to make this trip to Maui with you physically.  The “could haves, would haves, should haves” echo through my body still. And then I see you. And I believe that you are indeed here with us.  Sometimes you make me laugh in how you show up. This morning as I write to you this bird stops by just a few feet from where I sit and he turns his head and stares at me, fluffs his feathers, cocks his little head and let’s out a little noise that sounds like he’s choking on a popcorn kernel or something. I watched him watching me and then he turned sideways and strutted off one foot in front of the other while his head bobbed in and out sort of like a crazy dance move. Every few steps he’d stop and look back at me and then off he flew. I know that was you, Will. That crazy little bird was crazy little you saying good morning. I smiled at him and actually said good morning to you out loud.  I also see you as one of the many, many geckos that grace this beautiful home where we are staying. You scurry about, straight up and down walls, sometimes leaping from a plant pot to a leaf or a branch, sometimes ripping to the edge of the swimming pool where you’ll stop still in your tracks, look at me and then start doing what looks like little push ups. And then there’s the palm trees. When they sway back and forth in the breeze I imagine that maybe it’s you waving to us.  I believe you are the sea turtles that Dad sees every time he goes windsurfing and that they are you watching out for Dad when he’s so far off shore that I lose sight of his sail. Please tell me that’s what you’re doing!  And I believe that you are the heart shaped pieces of coral that I pick up on my beach walks. They are the centrepiece on our table and in the evenings while we enjoy our post sunset dinner you sit on our table… smack dab in the middle of Dad and I. 
    Sitting on our dinner table
      Perhaps the most profound sign of you so far was the boy on the boogie board last Thursday. It was late in the afternoon and as Dad and I were soaking up the sunshine we were mesmerized by this little guy to our right. He was maybe 7 or 8 and he was using his boogie board as if it were a skim board. Over and over and over he would run full speed into the shore break clutching the board under his arm and then at just the right moment he’d lay it down, jump on it with both feet and then launch himself, arms and legs flailing, into the air where he’d tumble into the other side of the shore break. We watched him for a long time, mesmerized by how much this little guy reminded us of you. Sometimes he’d do flips off the curl of the wave just as it crashed to the shore and in the aftermath of all the churned up sand and white water shore break that would wash up the beach, there too he’d be.  It was like the shore break delivered him back to where his parents sat and watched him. Each time Dad and I imagined that he’d say, “Watch this! Mom. Dad. Watch this!”  And off he’d go again and again and again…  I couldn’t take my eyes off of this little  boy and the fun he was having. He had the same zest for life that you had, the same skinny little body and lanky arms and legs. The way he ran was like watching you run and the cool little swagger that was part of him reminded me of you too.  His idea of using that boogie board as a super launcher was so “you” and in my mind I could hear your giggle. I saw that little boy two more times that week and each time my eyes were drawn to him like he was the only other person on the beach.   I still can’t stop thinking of that boy.  No one was having as much fun as he was.  I wonder if that was you, Little Blue?  It sure could have been.  These Maui days are some of the most relaxing I’ve had in a long, long time. I don’t remember feeling this peaceful, this rested, this calm in the four years and two months since your angel date. I do feel you are here with us in so many ways, that you share my heartbeat and my breath and that you are indeed a part of me. Love you like a bus, Willy. A big bus full of super launcher boogie boards.  See you on the beach today, little Blue. I’ll bring the sunscreen.  Momxo

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  • A Bike Ride For You

    More than 200 rode for you!
    More than 200 rode for you!
    Sunday, June 3, 2012 (one year, 12 days) Dear Will, Yesterday we celebrated an amazing event in honour of your Foundation and it was a huge success.  Much bigger than we thought it would be and I am still in awe and overwhelmed at the
    Even Nana!
    Even Nana!
    generousity of our community and our friends.  This place we call home is so very special and I believe that there may not be another place like it on this earth.  I am exhausted on all fronts; physically, emotionally, mentally, etc. and yet my heart, though so broken, is swelling with pride.  Pride for you and the impact that you had on so many and pride for our Village; the Village that helped raise you.  You are missed by so many, Willy, but remembered too, which is all I can ask of anyone and is all I can hope for. During the Silent Auction, I bid on a purse full of goodies and ended up being the winning bidder.  In it was a book titled How Many People Does it Take to Make a Difference? I thought it quite a statement that I would be the recipient of that book because it was another reminder that you made such a difference in your short life.  And it made me think that everyone that participated in the Bike Ride and the Silent Auction last night made a difference too.   The preliminary calculations are looking like $40,000+ will go to your Foundation!  I can’t find words to explain what that feels like; such a bittersweet thing.  If only you were here with us at home where you should be, enjoying the gifts of the ordinary days I long for.  Oh, what I’d give for that to be true…  But, sadly that will never happen.  Instead, I will remind myself of the good that came out of this weekend; the many friends and family that supported us through your Foundation and I will remember how we all came together to remember you and to help our community heal.  You’d have loved it, Will.  But I think maybe you were there; looking down on us with a big Willy smile and giving us a big thumbs up with both hands.  You definitely are the little big man. Love you like a bus and more than your bike, Momxo

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  • Those Little, Blue Butterflies Get Me Every Time

    The Little Blue Butterfly May 18, 2015     Dear Will,   While walking Finn down by the river this afternoon I noticed the little, blue butterflies were visiting again. I’ve missed seeing these little beauties, as these were the first I’ve seen since last summer. First there was one, then two… then three, all fluttering about in the sunshine, stopping here and there, up and down and all around — going nowhere it seemed, or certainly not in a hurry if they were. I smiled wondering if they were you… and in the same breath, of course, they were you. I slowed my pace and began to talk to them, extending my hand and then stopping to just take it all in. I asked them, “is that you, Willy? Is it you? Is it?” They continued to flutter about always coming back to where I could almost reach out and touch them. They stayed close, stopping and starting in unison as if I was leading some sort of dance.   For quite some time I was oblivious to anything else. Their delicate, little, blue wings so perfect and the way they’d stop and rest on a dandelion or a leaf or a blade of grass while their little wings moved as if that is how they breathed. Little ins and little outs. And then off they’d go, their wings moving so effortlessly and so quietly amongst us.   I needed to see those little, blue butterflies today, Will. A sign from you that you are here, that you see us and hear us and love us still. These past few days have weighed heavily on my heart and to see the weightlessness of love in the wings of a little blue butterfly instantly picked me up. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how fragile I was feeling today. For a few days, I didn’t want to open my eyes and instead closed them tight for fear that the river of tears inside of me would spill. I’d been walking with my head down instead of up, not seeing the beauty in little things…until I saw the little, blue butterflies this afternoon.   For the rest of my walk I longed to touch you, to see your face, to hear your voice and in the quiet of my afternoon walk I did try, but the only sight and sound was in my memory. I sighed. But I will never give up on my belief that you are here. Just a blink away. Somewhere over the rainbow. On the other side of the veil. I’ll be out again tomorrow Will, on the same river path as today. And I’ll look for you again… because those little, blue butterflies get me every time.   Love you, little blue. Like a bus full of those little flutterbies.   Momxo  

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0 Comments

  1. This was a tough one…. Tears are running freely. I may read another at another time. So true of the emotions that happen. Thanks for sharing. Same emotions so raw in the beginning and then for a long time. Faith, Love and Time… XOX

    Reply

    1. Oh Carol. Life (as you know)so full of bittersweets when you lose a child. It is only through tears that the heart can smile. A quote we got from The Children’s Hospital says it so beautifully; “it takes both the rain and the sun to make a rainbow”. Oh so true. YOU give me hope, Carol. Xo

      Reply

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