A Little School FULL of WillPower

Basketball

December 16, 2017

Dear Willy,

Yesterday morning Dad and I attended an assembly at Banded Peak School. They wanted to recognize us and your Foundation for funding the school with new basketball uniforms. I have to tell you, Will, that WillPower and the Power of Will are alive and well there and we just couldn’t have been more proud! The video of all the kids explaining what WillPower means to them and seeing all the basketball kids donning the new jerseys with WillPower printed on the back was emotionally moving. I will always remember it and suffice it to say it was hard to hold it together; to keep our tears from spilling wasn’t easy. Last week, one of your teachers, Mr C., asked if I would talk at the assembly about you and what you stood for…. how could the proudest Mom in the land say, “no” to that?

I wanted to share my words with you (even though I know you were there in the gym yesterday) but also wanted to record them somewhere where they could be read and remembered again by you and me and all who know and miss you. It is a beautiful thing to be reminded of just how big your little light is.

I love you, Willy. Like a bus full of new basketball uniforms and WillPower and big, proud mama love.

Momxo

Here’s what I had to say about you…

Hello and thank you.

I am Will’s Mom and this is Will’s Dad, Murray. Most of you know me as Mrs. Bouchard, but this morning I am here wearing my proudest hat… and that is as Will’s Mom. Will’s Dad and I are honoured to be here this morning on behalf of Will, but also on behalf of the Will Bouchard Memorial Foundation.

This community and this school are important to us for many reasons. We have lived and raised our 3 boys in this little piece of paradise over the last 22 years. Our boys — Justin, Ben and Will grew up in this community and in this school and each of their faces can be seen in the school photos that line the hallways here.

We are here because of our youngest son, Will. Mr. Churchill was one of Will’s teachers and he asked me to share a little bit about who Will was and what he was about.

Will was in grade 7 when our “worst day ever” happened. We lost him in a tragic accident in May 2011 and from that day forward this community and this school rallied together to help us survive.

We are lucky to live where we do and to have had a village to help us cope with our loss. Honestly, it is unlike any community we have ever known. Will loved this community and this school. It was more than a place to learn… it was his play place too. Just like it is for all of you.

Will was an active boy — a boy who loved to run, to jump, to play and to hang upside down. His two favourite places here were in the gym and on the playground. It’s important to note that he also liked to hang out in the band room with Mrs Fisher and the bari sax. Will loved sports. He played every school sport, played hockey in both Bragg Creek and Springbank, and was a member of the freestyle ski team in Fernie.

Will couldn’t sit still and he was also pretty chatty. Sometimes his chattiness coupled with his inability to sit still got him into a bit of trouble in the classroom as you can imagine. …Perhaps some of you are like this too. All this aside, it is here in the gym where he was happiest and where his light shone the brightest. Not only because he loved phys ed and sports but also because he was a boy who loved his friends and his peers… and the gym was and is a place to gather… just like now.

After losing Will the school asked us if they could hang his sports jersey here in the gym as a remembrance but also as a reminder of what Will stood for. Of course, we were honoured beyond words and to this day I cannot even tell you what it means to me to look up at that #8 jersey. It was his favourite number and any time he could choose which number to wear it always had an 8 in it.

So, when you look at that jersey up thereand you see the word WillPower… what does it mean? Well… it means two things and Will encompassed both. WillPower means to persevere, to always keep trying and to not give up. That’s what the dictionary would say and when it came to school and, in particular, sports, Will demonstrated WillPower always.

But it also has another meaning. If you switch the words around you get The Power of Will. You see, Will had this special power, this intuition, for knowing when people were sad or unhappy and he made it his mission to undo that and to make people happy. He was like the sad police. He couldn’t stand it when we or his friends or his peers were sad.

The cool thing is that we all have this power. We all, each of you, have the power to make someone’s day better. We, you, all of us, can have the Power of Will. And each time you’re in this gym and you see that jersey, that #8, and that word, WillPower let that be a reminder to never give up, to try harder, to persevere, but also to make someone’s day better, to make a sad person happy, to turn a frown upside down, and to be kind. In every facet of your life, kindness is really all that matters.

To those of you who will wear these new basketball uniforms now and in the coming years please know how honoured we are on behalf of ours son and the Will Bouchard Memorial Foundation to have provided them to this school — to this place he loved, to his village.

On the back of each jersey is the word WillPower”. The word is not large or overbearing, but small and intentional. Your vice principal last year, Mrs. Magee, was instrumental in getting these new uniforms and she collaborated with us in their design. When she suggested that the word WillPower be included on them we were very touched.

When you have the opportunityto represent Banded Peak through a school sport we hope that WillPower will guide your actions and the way you play and treat others. And here at school when you’re in the gym with your class and you see Wills jersey up there know he’s watching and cheering you on and in so doing is reminding you that you too have the power to make everyone around you a better person. Will was all about that. And that makes us very proud.

We miss Will beyond words. We always will.

All we ask, all anyone could ever ask is that you carry your own WillPower and the Power of Will that you all possess in your hearts and that you strive every day to make others happy. Be kind. Have fun. Be your best self.

He would love that more than anything.

Thank you.

Basketball Jersey
Basketball Jersey Back

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  • A Gold Dipped Yellow Leaf

    this one.jpg

    September 16, 2019

    Dear sweet Will,

    Today I watched the first yellow leaf fall from your tree. It reminded me of a tear as it fell to the ground and in those few seconds I did wipe a tear as it rolled down my cheek. Sometimes the unexpected can just get me like that. It was also a stark reminder of the passage of time… another season, another fall since you passed to the other side. I ponder how that can be possible when it feels both so long ago and like yesterday at the same time. That golden yellow leaf is also a reminder of the many signs of you that seem to be everywhere – all of them beautiful in their abundance and all of them I am ever grateful to be witness of. They are a daily reminder that you are indeed near and that you continue to watch over us. It really is possible in the moments of each passing day, week, month, season and year to see little signs of you in all kinds of places and in so many different ways. Little blue butterflies, heart shaped rocks, a snowflake, a brand new leaf, rainbows, tiny-fluffy- speckled feathers, a chattering squirrel or cawing crow and sometimes the magical, indescribable way Finn seems to look through me instead of at me. I know all of these are somehow you. I often reply to these abundant signs saying out loud, “Hey Willy, I see you, I hear you, I feel you.” I have had many conversations with these signs of you believing and hoping that you can see me, hear me and feel me, too.

    Friends

    The painful part is that I miss you as you were. So many things I miss… I miss watching you grow, seeing you run and jump. I miss hearing your giggle and the sound of your voice. I miss watching you make cinnamon toast in the morning and how you’d pour milk into your bowl of honey nut Cheerios. Frequently there’d be more milk on the counter than in your bowl but you insisted that you could do it and if I made a fuss about how that was wasteful you’d look at me and without saying a word you’d lick it right off the counter just to prove a point. I know I didn’t miss that back then but I’d give anything for a bowl of spilled milk now. I miss watching you swing your backpack over your shoulder and how sometimes it was so jam packed that you looked like a turtle carrying its shell. I long for the morning chaos that was part of every school day… how you’d rush to eat breakfast and brush your teeth before you’d stuff your backpack with all you needed for the day and then how you’d saunter out the door (and sometimes run like mad) to catch the bus to school. I miss our conversations about what mattered most to you on each given day. I miss watching how you loved being with your buddies and how much you loved pushing your brothers’ buttons and wrestling and cuddling with Dad. I miss your “Hi Mom” when I’d see you in the hallways at school and your public hugs when you just knew it meant more to me than to you. I miss watching you work so hard to get through your homework after school because every extra minute was golden when you were playing with your friends and / or jumping on the trampoline before dinner. I miss the way you would stall every bedtime routine and then how you’d look forward to our time to read together before bed. I miss hearing you say, “goodnight mom” and how you’d tell me you loved me like a bus. I miss our bedtime hugs and watching you as you slept when I’d enter your room one more time before it was my turn to crawl into my bed down the hall. I know these times were fleeting in the big picture but like every parent I always believed that these little nuances – these routines of everyday life – would morph into different age appropriate routines as you grew older. Never did I ever believe that it would end so tragically and so quickly. When I look back I am reminded of how fleeting it really was and how precious those moments really were. What a gift an ordinary day was back then and how lucky I am to be able to recall so many. I am especially grateful to have had that perspective. I will hold onto each and every one of them for all of my days on earth.

    And Will, when the next golden leaf flutters from your tree to the ground I will choose to look at it as you waving to me instead of feeling it as my tears. I will watch closely so I don’t miss it and as fall inevitably makes its grand entrance I will see you wave many, many times as the leaves from your thriving little tree cover the ground. Watch me, Will, as I will be waving back at you.

    I miss all of you, sweet boy, and I love you beyond words. Like a bus. A big, yellow bus full of beautiful gold dipped, yellow leaves.

    Momxo


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  • In and On the Water

    Will on the water having fun in the sun!
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    Sunday, July 31, 2011 (10 weeks) Good morning, Willy, It is another beautiful, blue sky morning and there is not a cloud in the sky.  Mr Blue Sky, hmmm….  Is that you?  Sure, it is.  Our plan is to spend the day on the lake (Koocanusa) in the boat and the only thing that will be missing is you.  You loved waterskiing, (duh, it is “skiing”) and the wake-skate and it was always so much fun to watch you.  It came so Read More “In and On the Water”

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  • Ten Years.

    ten years
    May 22, 2021

    Dear Will,

    10 years.

    120 months.

    522 weeks.

    3654 days.

    I cannot even put into words how to describe what this momentous passage of time, this significant marker, really feels like other than to tell you that you are still so sadly missed and immensely loved as much as ever. I imagine you are proudly touting your 10 year wings and I’ve no doubt they are bigger, brighter and sparklier than ever. Tonight I will look for you in the nighttime sky… pretty sure you will be the brightest little light up there tonight and before I retire to my bed I promise you I will find a reason to smile for you and because of you. This day feels heavier than usual for me but as I learned all those years ago deep grief is the price of deep love.

    I miss you more than ever, sweet boy, and the big bus love is as real to me now as it was when you first said it to me when I tucked you into your bed when you were a toddler. The beautiful and cool thing is that the bus gets bigger and better with every passing hour, day, week, month and year and just when I think that bus cannot hold one more ounce of love it just does. 

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  • A Room With a View

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    The view of Polar Peak from your Memorial Rock
    Sunday, September 15, 2013 Dear Sweet Will, I am writing you this letter today from a very special place. I am sitting on the concrete skirting that surrounds your memorial rock in a natural alcove that Mother Nature carved out in the forest, a short walk from the top of the Elk Chair on the mountain that you so lovingly referred to as your ski home. It is incredibly lush here; so beautiful, peaceful, and quiet. At this moment the only sound would be me crying. I am here by myself for a bit and I couldn’t contain my silent tears so the mountain you loved is hearing me cry out loud. The pain of missing you so terribly sometimes comes out this way, Will. My tears started when I woke this morning. My head was still on the pillow as I reached over to the bedside table for my Will heart necklace. I held it in my hands for a few moments staring at it as if I was looking into your blue eyes. Your ashes sealed inside the silver heart pendant that I cupped in my hands before I secured the necklace around my neck is the most treasured piece of jewelry I own. It is the first thing I put on in the morning and the last thing I take off before I crawl into bed. I have cleaned and shined it with my tears on many occasions and this morning was no different.
    Elsy, Kathleen, Sarah, and Tess at your Memorial Rock
    Elsy, Kathleen, Sarah, and Tess at your Memorial Rock
    I am in Fernie this weekend for our second annual moms, daughters, and dogs hike to your rock. Claire, Sue, and Lisa and their “oh so pretty” daughters who I know you remember (Elsy, Sarah, and Tess) and, of course, the dogs (Sophie, Oakley, Bella, and our Finn) are sharing this special weekend with me. This year, however, your most special friend, Kathleen, and the closest girl I have to a daughter, is also here. I asked her if she’d come along as my “guest daughter” and in a while they will join me here to honour and remember you. But right now is my time with just you and as I sit here with my iPad ready to begin my letter to you I can’t help but notice the beauty that surrounds your memorial rock. Your rock in itself is incredible but where it rests is a little piece of heaven on earth. The ground is dark brown, rich and fertile, and still moist from the morning dew. The foliage and trees in all shapes and sizes and textures form a canopy protecting your rock somewhat from the elements that are part of a mountain climate. Some of the branches are tinged with yellow now as Mother Nature begins her transition from summer to fall. The ones directly overhead remind me of eyelashes as they flutter to and fro in the sunlight keeping me cool in the shade that they provide. There are still some glittery snowflake decorations hanging in the trees; remnants of the winter day the week before Christmas when Dad and I came here to specifically hang them. As I look down at my feet I notice bits of silver glitter that has mixed with the soil around your rock and my heart, even though my tears, somehow finds a reason to smile. I smile because I remember so clearly each day I visited your rock during this past winter while skiing. Inside my ski jacket pocket was a container that I filled with glitter and sparkles and each time I visited I would sprinkle them around your rock and the snow around it. Angel dust is what I called it. But what I notice most, Will, is the breathtaking view. This room with a view, your room here, is majestic and beautiful and a reminder that we are all so small amongst these huge mountains. However, your spirit and your presence here is much larger than all of us combined. I feel the warmth of your smile and I can hear your giggle (a giggle like no other and one of my favourite sounds ever), but what I long for more than anything else is to have you standing here with me, holding my hand. If only that was possible. What I will take with me down the mountain today are the countless memories of you at this place you loved and this view from your rock. Mother Nature was kind to bestow upon us this breathtaking view of Polar Peak. Your room with a view is beautiful, peaceful, and tranquil…. just like you. I love you little Blue. Like a bus. And I miss you bigger than the blue sky above your favourite mountain today. Know that the words we had engraved on the back side of your rock will be there for all time and will always ring true…
    You are forever a part of us and never alone. We love you, Will, and we miss you. Love Mom Dad Justin Ben XO
    Momxo

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  • Stung Again

    Will with Jamie and Lauren, at the precious age of 12
    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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  • My Heaven on Earth

    Oregon
    Will and Murray on Cannon Beach, Oregon. Summer 2010

    August 24, 2014

     

    Dear Will,

     

    It has been a full summer for me. A summer of short trips to Montana to spend time with friends and in between those, our two week holiday to Oregon to retrace our last summer holiday with you. It was a summer of fun times and, of course, some hard moments, too. Life after losing you has been full of figuring out our “new normal” and it sure hasn’t come without its share of intense sadness. How could it?

     

    When Dad and I and Finn headed to Cannon Beach on the Oregon Coast we knew there would be countless bittersweets and as we’d expected, of course, there was. The memories I have of our last vacation with you are etched inside me like stone for it was on that very trip to the Oregon Coast that you saw the ocean for the first and only time. The abundant beauty in that part of the world is breathtaking and the memories I have of you in that special place are even more breathtaking.

     

    Will and the Ocean
    Will and the Ocean

    We walked on the same beach and saw the same sights as we did with you in the summer of 2010. I remember the look of awe on your face when you saw the ocean for the first time and how you ran barefoot in the sand to the edge of a world new to you, anxious to feel the ocean on your toes. It was a special time, and one I am so grateful to have had. One never knows while visiting a place that it might be the last and though I was present in that moment, a part of me was already wondering where we’d vacation next and where and when you’d see the ocean again. That summer vacation was supposed to be another of the many we’d enjoy together. New adventures and new places awaited, life was good… and then the unimaginable happened and all of our dreams were shattered and broken. Wondering how we’d survive without you became our focus and thoughts of future summer vacations disappeared entirely.

     

    Cannon Beach was everything I remembered and the clarity with which I saw it again was a beautiful déjà vu. How Haystack Rock stood so prominently just offshore, the miles and miles of sandy beach that stretched for as far as the eye could see in both directions, all the sea birds busy doing that swooping dance that they do, the numerous early morning walkers and runners, all the happy dogs in the most dog-friendly place I’ve ever been chasing birds and balls and catching frisbees, the sand castles and shovels and pails and the children of all ages that dug holes and filled pails with sand, colorful kites connected by string to dads, the shells and remnants thereof, the icy feel of the cold salt water as it enveloped my ankles…. It looked the same this visit as it did when we saw it together for the first time and a hundred years from now I imagine it will look no different. The timelessness of all that surrounds this beautiful place and the memories I have of you there will keep me wanting to visit again and again. While on the beach I would close my eyes and imagine you there – a vision I will cherish and hold onto for the rest of my days. It is quite literally my “heaven on earth” and what I imagine heaven for real will be like.

     

    Dad and I talked endlessly of you on our travels this summer. That never changes. As the days turn into weeks, then months, and now years, it still seems like yesterday and forever that you were physically here with us. Our days continue to be full of thoughts of you in happier times; the innocent way you saw the world, the sound of your giggle, how you idolized your brothers and pushed their buttons, your genuine sensitivity and zest for fun, how you developed a style that became your own, and how you loved to be in the middle of everything we did. We spend our days honoring you in any way that we can and we do it passionately and with purpose because you are worth every minute.

     

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    I believe with all my heart that I will see you again and it is that belief that keeps me keeping on. When my days here come to an end I hope that the heaven you know will look just like my “heaven on earth”. I just know that you will be the first one I will see there. Until then, Will, you are my sun and my moon, the stars and a bus, and I love you as big as all that and more. I miss you bigger than big and long for that day when I will see you again.

     

    Lulab,

     

    Momxo

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     


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