This morning I woke and as I lay in my bed, the first thing I did was turn over my pillow… to the cold side. I smiled to myself remembering that this was one of your favourite things in the world…. Ahhh, the cold side of a pillow. True, for me as well, though it was always an unspoken thing. Now, whenever I flip over my pillow I always think of you and the beauty of that small pleasure.
Hope the pillows in your new world are perfect… I’ll bet they are except for one thing… I wish you were sleeping in your bed here at home, your sweet head full of hair on your favourite pillow here… where it should be.
Love you little sun,
Momxo
Discover more from Joni Bouchard
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Today as I let 2017 out the back door and welcome 2018 in the front door I want to thank you. I thank you for following me around this past year and for sitting on my left shoulder where the boy angels sit, constantly whispering in my ear, “Mom, I love you and you can do this.” You have never waned in your ability to assure me that indeed you are near and that the veil to the other side is thin. Through closed eyes and an open heart I have seen your boyish smile and heard your mischievous giggle when I have called your name. You have taken me by the hand and pulled me through my hardest days of this year and sat with me and offered me comfort when, no matter what, I just had to cry. I have come to know that there will always be moments when it is unbearable to live my days with you on the other side. But I have also learned that you’re right, somehow I can do this.
Will
Your light is bright, Will, and I trust with my whole heart that you will continue to guide Dad and me and your brothers as we live here on this side. Tonight I will search for your star — the middle one on Orion’s Belt in the Orion constellation that shines the brightest in these winter months — and I will pause and say thank you and tell you that I love you more. I know you’ll be with me tonight as I say goodbye to 2017 and hello to 2018. And I know you’ll be with me tomorrow and the next day and the next and the next… on my left shoulder and in my heart where you’ll always be. When I lay my head on my pillow at the end of this night I will dream of the day when we meet again face to face and how beautiful that embrace will be. The very best part about that day will be that instead of being on my left shoulder you’ll be in my arms.
Love you, sweet boy. Bigger than a bus and all the way to your star on Orion’s Belt and back.
Momxo
Discover more from Joni Bouchard
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Fourteen years to most feels like a long time. Fourteen years to me feels like forever. Sometimes in that forever, it is still hard to breathe. Like today. The beautiful thing though is that it is still possible in that forever to find a reason to smile. You were just that kind of boy. You gave me a million reasons to smile and today I will play those reasons over and over and over in my mind. Something that is not possible though is finding the words to describe how much I miss you. Even though I know you know, Willy.
Our bus full of love is bursting and just when I think it is impossible to load one more love you like a bus into it, it lets me. Over and over and over, just like the million reasons you give me to smile today.
I love you, beautiful boy. Like our big forever bus bursting at the seams.
Momxo
Discover more from Joni Bouchard
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Friends Forever: Calvin and Will at age 5
October 27, 2013
Dear Will,
Last night Dad and I went to the Lovenuik’s for dinner. Your winter ski bud and summer beach bud, Calvin, was there too, choosing a night at home instead of a night out with his friends. It was really great to see him, Will… though I wished more than anything that you were with us and that you and Calvin could have been hanging out together like it just should be. I remembered when the two of you first met – at the daycare at the base of the ski hill in Fernie — ski buddies before you even knew how to walk. The two of you, only 3 weeks apart in age, became great friends seeing each other every weekend during the winter months in Fernie for almost all of your “much too short” life. Winters full of dinners and play dates, swimming at the aquatic centre and building snow forts on the Lovenuik’s front lawn until you boys were frozen or wet or it was time to go home to bed. On many of those weekends, you and Calvin would go from building a snow fort outside to building a nest in the linen closet inside where the two of you would sleep. I find myself both smiling and shaking my head as I write this, wondering how the heck that could have been comfortable. Then, in the same breath, I remember that for boys, “fun” seems to always trump “comfortable”.
As the two of you grew not much changed. Sure, your little one piece ski suits became trendy ski jackets and cool pants, your skis got longer, your feet grew bigger, and building snow forts turned into building ski jumps. You no longer needed your dads to take you swimming for you were old enough to go on your own, the Disney DVDs disappeared replaced by endless hours of watching ski movies over and over and over. Your friendship circle grew too, encompassing more boys your age, all of them members of the Fernie Freestyle Ski Team; boys that became part of a world that you loved so much. Ski movies, stickers, ski mags, toques, posters, park passes and helmet cams became the norm. What never changed though and what I believe would still be true was how much the two of you enjoyed each other’s company and how much your friendship meant to one another.
Seeing Calvin last night and how much he has grown is another bittersweet for me. (You’d love his hair, Will!) But, what I will never forget is what he gave to Dad and I after dinner. He’d come from his bedroom with a photograph (the one above); a photo of the two of you when you guys were about 5. Two little boys, hamming it up for the camera and as I looked at it my heart went back to that time and to that happy place. This photo is a treasure; a gift so precious; a gift that’s worth can only truly be understood by a parent who has lost a child. Sadly, there are no recent photos of you, the last one taken the day before the accident. Photos of your 12½ years, though they will never be enough, are all we have now and each time I see one that I haven’t seen before my heart wants to take a picture of it so it will always be there. I will always appreciate another photo, another story, another remembrance of you. More memories for the memory box that will never be full enough. Which makes me think… maybe I should put it out there to all who knew you to please share any photos of you that they may have. All of them are treasures and memories that would mean the world to us.
It was nice to spend an evening with good friends and to see your friend, Calvin, too. I am ever grateful for the “gift of you” that he sent us home with.
Love you little blue. Like a bus.
Momxo
Discover more from Joni Bouchard
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Our Sweet Will
September 13, 2015
Dear Will,
I woke this morning to a grey sky and a steady drizzle. I stayed in bed a little longer than I usually do thinking about what I “had” to do today and realized that my to-do list was secondary and that the laundry could wait another day. It seems there is always something that needs to get done or should get done, but I decided that today would be a gift. An “easy like a Sunday morning” day instead.
As I sit in my comfy spot on the couch with a cup of tea and my MacBook I find myself content that it is raining today. It means that all the outside tasks like emptying flowerpots, trimming branches and putting away sprinklers, etc. would not beckon me outside. Instead I am thinking about how quiet it is and how lucky I am to be able to just “be in the moment”. The only thing I hear is the plunking of my keys on the keyboard and Finn’s intermittent sighs – contentment written all over his stretched out body on his dog bed beside the fireplace.
I make a mental note to enjoy this solitude, as I know it will diminish once Murray makes his way downstairs and turns on the television to watch golf and football (his to-do list also not a priority today). I look around and think about what I might “want” to do instead; a plethora of creative play stuff dancing around in my head. So many possibilities… maybe I’ll paint… or read my book, perhaps doodle in my art journal or maybe paint a rock or two or three. And then my eyes are drawn to the table in the corner where a ball of ivory yarn with a half knitted project attached to it with knitting needles is beckoning me; a project I’d abandoned before summer began as knitting seemed a world away in the summer months. Maybe I’ll figure out where I’m at in my project and settle into the repetitive, clickety clack of my knitting needles. It is a perfect day to sit and knit.
But… before I get into that knitting project I’ll reminisce about you and what you might have been doing on this rainy day if you were here. There’s no question that you’d still be sleeping as it’s still early and I remember well the days of Justin and Ben sleeping till late morning on the weekends. Like your brothers on a lazy Sunday I imagine that grazing would be a given – scouring the fridge and the pantry for a little of this and little of that – leaving a path of granola bar wrappers and almost empty bowls of cereal in your wake would take up a big part of your day. Some hanging time with your buddies or maybe a girlfriend followed by the predictable wait for our Sunday family dinner. “What are we having, Mom?” “When will it be ready?” “Did you make lots?” All the usual questions.
I wish more than anything for another Sunday like that. Like I’ve said many times before, it’s all the ordinary things that I miss the most. Today I miss your grey, ripped sweat pants that exposed your boxers and that you begged me to not throw away. I miss your holey, mismatched socks that were never fully on your feet, the red, oversized t-shirt you loved, and your “bedhead” hair sticking up and out in all directions – a sign that you had slept long and well and that you had little interest in fixing until (maybe) you may have later left the house. Your shoes (the two-toned blue vans) that you loved so much would be somewhere near the front door (probably not together but in the same vicinity) and your Rasta colored toque would be on the step or hanging on the stairway railing post. I miss your path of stuff around our house and how it used to drive me crazy. The things I didn’t think I would ever miss… I miss.
Instead I will cherish those memories and remember all of your “Will-isms”. The stuff that made you “you” and the stuff that you’d adopted from your big brothers. The stuff that you thought was just the coolest and that drove them crazy when you wanted to copy them. I’ll remember the way you’d drop your lanky little self on top of Dad when he was lying on the couch watching golf and then how you’d giggle when he’d tousle your hair and give you a noogy. Of course tears will spill from my eyes as I recall so vividly your place in our family and then I’ll remind myself how much we loved you and how much we miss you. I’ll remind myself how lucky we were to have had those times with you and think about how sad it is that there are too many kids in this world who will never know that kind of love. Today I will walk right past the pile of laundry and say thank YOU for sending the rain today. It’s given me the gift of time to stop and reflect and remember an ordinary Sunday with you.
Love you little blue — tousled hair, holey socks and all. And like a bus, of course.
Momxo
Discover more from Joni Bouchard
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
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
Discover more from Joni Bouchard
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
I’m not sure there are words to even describe what missing you forever feels like. There is a quote that I frequently refer to that I think sums it up best…
Sometimes one person can be missing and the whole world feels empty.
… Yup, “empty” feels like the right word. But again, it’s so much more than that.
And, it’s May. The hardest month of the year. Every day a sad reminder of the day our world changed forever. I wonder every May if your angel date won’t sting so much, but almost nine years later, the sting still stings.
And, today is Mother’s Day. You and Justin and Ben are the best part of me and I am missing all of you.
The social distancing restrictions due to COVID-19 have not allowed me to see your brothers but, thankfully, that is a “just for now” thing. I will see them soon, but you, Will, are the one I will miss forever. Today I think of my own Mom, your Nana, and how much she means to me — how in this world she is the one person I’ve known the longest (ahem, like my whole life!) and whom I have always been able to count on in good times and in bad. I hope you know that every minute of your 12 ½ years I loved you more than the minute before and that all these days later my big love for you just gets bigger.
My heart smiles recalling all the beautiful, and sometimes funny, gifts and kind gestures that you and your brothers and Dad did to make Mother’s Day extra special for me. I am lucky to have had all of what you boys could muster when what mattered the most was that we were together. Believe me, Will, I have tucked every special memory and every cold piece of toast into my heart. I have kept every homemade card and gift you boys ever made at school and that big box of love is one of my most treasured possessions. Today I will spend my day touching and reading every one of them remembering the tiny and not-so-tiny hands that created them.
I will pause and remember the sound of your infectious giggle and call to mind how you’d sit at the kitchen table with that big tub of Crayola markers and crayons and construction paper and pipe cleaners and stickers and tape. Oh, how you loved tape. With a juice box and a bowl of fishy crackers at your side.
My sweet Will, I miss you so very much. I miss all the yesterdays, I miss you today and I will miss you for all the tomorrows.
And I love you. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, forever… Like a bus from here to forever and then a whole bunch more.
Momxo
Discover more from Joni Bouchard
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
