Yesterday was a 2-2 day. Another mark on the “when our world was perfect” scale and like all the days that mark the 22nd day of each month this day just always gets me. The 2-2 days seem to be a little more difficult than all the other days. I’m certain that even without a calendar my body has come to know when it is the dawn of a 2-2 day because as soon as I wake the rhythm of that day changes. It stops. I stop. I spend much of that day preoccupied with thoughts of you. I time travel back to the days and years when our world was perfect because you were in it. We didn’t know it then but we sure know it now.
The wishing stone I found
Before the rain yesterday I took Finn out for a walk and as we meandered along our usual path by the river I noticed a wishing stone. I stopped and picked it up (of course I did!) and as I rubbed it between my fingers to clean off the dirt I thought about what I would wish for. It’s always the same wish and even though I know that in my lifetime it cannot ever come true I still wish it. Every time. Why? Because one day, Willy, when my life here is done my wish will come true. And that’s what keeps me keepin’ on.
Until then I will ride the wave of the days that mark the 22nd day of each month and I will think of you and time travel back to our days together. I will continue to wish for my one wish and know in my heart that each 2-2 day brings me closer. Until then I will live for you and because of you. I will soldier on remembering when our world was indeed perfect and I will miss you more and more and more.
I love you, Willy. Like a bus in a perfect world.
Momxo
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Will at twelve, with Jamie and Lauren
Friday, November 22, 2013 (2 ½ years)
Hey Will,
It’s late and I can’t sleep. The clock on my bedside table marks the last few minutes of another 22nd day of the month and it stings like all the others. I felt it when I woke this morning. There was a sluggishness about getting out of bed, about having to go through the motions of this day; another day where it would take a little more effort to put one foot in front of the other. And so after a few minutes of staring out of the window at the sun just beginning to give light to the day I got up and dawdled to the shower. It’s always so easy to cry there; the tears run to the tips of my toes not just down my cheeks to be wiped away with a tissue or my sleeve. Today these tears were as necessary and natural as washing my face and brushing my teeth; tears that have become a routine part of the 22nd day of every month.
When I pulled into the parking lot at school this morning I whispered your name and asked you to help me hold it together today and it worked, Will! I worked through my day with a smile, but it did sting a little each time I saw the date written on a student’s paper, each time I saw it on a computer screen, each time I saw it written on the whiteboard in every classroom I walked into today, but I’ve come to expect it and so its a little easier when I know its going to sting instead of being taken aback or surprised. That feels more like a punch to the stomach and though that still happens from time to time it is a little less now. Sadly, to me that can only mean that more time has passed and that I’ve gotten used to what it feels like to be punched in the stomach. I was working with a grade seven boy who was celebrating his twelfth birthday today and that stung too. Looking at him took me back to your grade seven year and to you being twelve and how it stopped there. “Twelve” is yet another word that stings.
The next 22nd day of the month will be 3 days before Christmas and that one will sting more; more like one of those punches to the stomach. As Christmas approaches the tears will multiply and getting out bed will become more difficult. This I know now and there is no stopping the wave of sadness that lasts throughout the holiday season. It’ll never be right, never be ok that you’re not physically here with us. It just is what it is and sadly nothing can change it. I do feel your presence with us spiritually but oh how I miss seeing you, touching you, smelling you.
Thanks for helping me get through the day, Will. And thanks for letting me know that you are with me on this new day, the 23rd day of November. I woke this morning and the first thing I did before getting out of bed was reach for my iPad on the bedside table to re-read my letter. I opened the Songza app and the first song that played was “Mr. Blue Sky”. I’ll take that as a sign that you are here with me and it made me smile. It’s no secret that you are my little Mr. Blue Sky; you always will be.
Love you like a bus,
Momxo
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Well, sweet One, December has been quite a month. For me (your Type A Mom!) it was a month that will go down in the books as one that reminded me that even with all of the best intentions sometimes plans can go sideways and coming up with a Plan B can be good, too. I will also remember this December as one that beckoned even more strength than usual. With the holiday season our broken hearts seem more broken than ever and I realize that the jagged edges of losing you have not smoothed over time. Some things are just not possible and not having you in our earthly world will always be the most painful thing to endure. No matter the day, the month or the year.
In mid December your biggest brother became ill and we learned that his appendix had unfortunately burst. With that came an emergency surgery followed by 11 days in hospital. Not only did he spend his 28th birthday in hospital but as Christmas Day approached there was the probability that he would have to remain in hospital due to the serious abdominal infection he was fighting. It was an easy decision to accept that we’d forego Christmas in Fernie as Christmas without Justin was never an option.
My favourite gingerbread boy. The one you made.
So Plan B ensued and Dad dug out the tiny artificial tree from the basement and brought up the box of Christmas decorations that I opened only once since losing you. That box held all of the special handmade ornaments that you boys made in kindergarten and elementary school – those special Christmases when magic pumped through your veins and through our house right down to bells on boots and zipper pulls, special Santa pillowcases and advent calendars and boxes and cups of hot chocolate stuffed with marshmallows while reading Christmas books in our jammies. The first Christmas without you I’d pulled out only a few to take with us to Fernie where, out of mere survival and the need to have certain special things in our midst, we began a new tradition. Our new Willy Christmases are all about you. Your Santa hat or toque has replaced the angel figure that used to grace the top of our tree and we adorn the tree branches with all of our family ski passes over the years. Each year I have added sparkly snowflakes of all colors and sizes, fuzzy snowballs and the glitteriest things I could find. All the while I’d not forgotten that at home was that very special box of Christmas treasures and one that I knew one day when I was ready I’d open again and cherish more than I had ever before. Well, that day did come and though I might not have been ready it seemed the right thing to put on our little tree. And so I did. And it was beautiful, Will.
As each day brought us closer to Christmas we continued to pray that Justin would be well enough to come home and each day we’d hear again the “not today” news. We decided that if Justin couldn’t come to us, we’d take Christmas to him. With a heavy heart on Christmas morning I went upstairs to bathe and dress so we could go to the hospital and when I came down the stairs what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Justin and Amy sitting on the couch in our living room in front of our little tree. There were only two things I could do, Will. One was to cry and the other was to hold on to the stair railing so I wouldn’t fall. For the rest of my life I will always remember that moment of surprise and how my heart burst. Oh, how I love a love burst! We had a wonderful day complete with Christmas dinner and though Justin needed to return to hospital that evening we knew that if they’d allowed him a day pass that a hospital discharge was not far away. Our wish came true the next day.
As I look back now this last day of 2016 I think about the love bursts of the year and am refilling my heart with the happy moments that will help sustain me as I flip the calendar to a new year and another painful reminder of the passage of time. I think about all of the signs you continue to send our way — the magical rainbows, the sunspots and the beautiful sparkly snowflakes that can only be you. I think about another successful Ride For Will and how your legacy just keeps on keepin’ on. I think about Justin marrying his Amy and the girl that we are delighted to have as part of our family. I think about Ben and the love for the outdoors that is his passion and the exhilaration and anticipation that comes with completing his last year of university. I think of Dad and how we continue to hold each other in happy times and how we find comfort in each other’s arms when the world is too much to bear. I think of Finn and how much joy he brings to our home and I swear that lurking behind his knowing eyes are your eyes and a place I often look to for love bursts. For all of these moments I am grateful and when I wake tomorrow to 2017 I will continue to fill my heart with all of these moments while I search for and cultivate more.
I love you, Sweet Will. Like a bus full of love bursts and sparkles and glittery things and all the things that I cherish most in my life… you, your brothers, your Dad and our big, brown dog.
Momxo
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As I turn the calendar to the last days of May I am relieved that 1) I made it and 2) the overwhelming sadness that I associate with May is behind me again for another year. I am often asked if losing you gets easier with time and the answer to that is no, 100% absolute no. It is not one bit easier. There is still a sting, an emptiness, and an ache deep inside that can make it hard to breathe. Still.
I still wonder every moment how this can happen and why parents sometimes outlive their children when it just should never, ever be. I struggle still with not being able to touch you, to physically see you in your body and believe me, I will miss that forever. Where I do find comfort, and where I seek it is in all of the things and places that I believe you are. I believe it’s you because I can feel you. Sometimes its that feeling of déjà vu and sometimes it’s the way you feel when you think somebody is looking at you from the other side of the room, only there is nobody there… except you.
I believe you are those little blue butterflies in the spring and the heart-shaped rocks that find their way to my pockets and to my home. I believe you are the magnificent rainbows and double rainbows that wow me, and that you are the very sparkliest snowflakes in every blanket of Willy that falls to the ground. I know that you are the effervescent dewdrops in the trees that a friend of mine says stretch up so high that they must hold up heaven. There have been moments when I’ve said your name out loud, asked if it was you, but knew in my heart that it was. Sometimes it’s the way Finn looks seemingly “through me” and not at me. I’ve seen you in the aura that surrounds the sun and in the middle star of Orion’s Belt as it twinkles so brightly in the night sky. I feel your winks and your pokes, your smiles and your gotcha’s and at the end of the day before I sleep I feel your “I love yous”.
I promise you, Will, for as long as I am on this side of heaven I will continue to look for all the signs you send to let me know that you are here. I promise that I will never lose hope, or my faith in the magical power that is you and that we refer to as WillPower.
I love you, little blue. More than ever and anything and a bus.
Momxo
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Even though living in Alberta all of my life I know that I shouldn’t be surprised to see snow this late please, please, enough of the snow now. I know that the snow you are bestowing upon us is you letting us know that you are here with us. I get that you’re messing with us and that you’re up there laughing yourself silly. You’ve made all that abundantly clear but I’m begging you to please put that snowmaking machine away and give us some blue sky and some green grass! Sigh…. oh how happy I would be. The first few times I saw snowflakes after a big melt I did laugh and think it was funny (kind of?) but it is becoming less funny now. I get how much you loved having the last word and how much you love snow but how about you get out your soccer ball now!? Or your baseball mitt? Or your bike!?
Baseball in the Spring. Note the green grass!Soccer. Note the green grass!
This weekend is closing weekend for the ski resort in Fernie and though the base is still big and healthy thanks to you it IS time to put away your skis. I’m pretty sure I’m speaking for the masses (other than maybe your brother, Ben, who also loves winter). Last week was brutal. Waking up to 8 inches of the white stuff when just the week before Dad thought it safe to take my winter tires off while I was happily getting used to wearing my shoes without socks. I couldn’t help but think how that was pretty darn nice. The birds were singing in the early mornings – a joyous cacophony of the sounds of spring waking up the world after a long season of winter.
Please, little Mr. Blue Sky, hang up your skis now. Put the snow machine and all your magic snow potion in the back of your big heavenly closet up there and work on making the grass green. You’re a funny one, Will. Always were and still are but it is time for you to send those wee blue butterflies down for a visit.
As you know I love you more than anything and I miss you every minute of every day. Each new season brings me a season closer to being with you and once my days down here on earth are done and I’ve joined you up in heaven I promise we can go crazy with that snow making machine and I won’t complain…. but until then sweet Will, please put that sucker away.
Love you like a bus, Willy. Parked on a patch of really green grass.
Momxo
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Your Forever Friends Riding For You
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Dear Will,
It’s been a bit since I’ve written but that is no reflection of how much I’ve been thinking about you. There is no part of any day that you are not on my mind. Your memory lives there and is part of my every breath. And I’ve certainly not stopped talking to you in my quiet moments, most times out loud.
Will in the middle of it all
Last weekend we held your annual Ride For Will and one thing I want to know is how much you had to do with that chaotic weather?? I know the large snowflakes that fell on Friday morning were you, always the teaser, the taunter, the boy who loved snow so much that given the choice of a warm sunny day, you’d take the snow every time. You got me as I looked out the window to see the white stuff falling and before I got my iPad and hit record video I swear I could hear your mischievous giggle… you know the one – the one right before the panic that got you running to my side for protection from your brothers when you’d pushed their buttons one time too many.
Saturday started out so promising, so nice with the sun waking us that morning. You, little Mr. Blue Sky shining down on us as we set up for registration and put the tents up in the sports field to house the bake sale and the medics, the face painting and the PA system. “Just in case” is always our reasoning and because we all know that June in Southern Alberta can deal all kinds of weather my fingers and toes were crossed that you’d be the boss of the weather. This time, maybe that weather task was too big for you and next year, maybe you could ask the big guy up there for some help? I wonder, does the big guy trump Mother Nature?
The good news is that nothing could dampen the spirit that surrounds your Ride. I am in awe at those that continue to support us through this event. The young and old, your school friends and ski buddies, family and friends, all those that gather in your memory and remember and those that didn’t know you, but feel like they do through your story and the good that we are doing in your name and your memory. It is a big bittersweet day for us; a day so full of love and missing you that no harsh weather could diminish. I couldn’t help but smile at all the muddy grins on faces dotted with mud and all the muddy stripes on the backs of the riders as they finished. For you, a bike and a mud puddle meant fun and it was evident that those that rode saw it that way too (or had no choice but to!).
I love you little Mr. Blue Sky. Even when Mother Nature overrules you. I guess when it comes to the weather she really is the boss. Stay on her good side, Will, as she can be quite unpredictable! And that’s one mother that you don’t want to make angry!
Love you like a bus rippin’ through the mud.
Momxo
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