And a New Chapter Begins…

     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. 

  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

 

February 23, 2017

 

Dear Will,

 

Your eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. Yes indeed, they were the windows to your soul.

 

On the day you were born I will always remember how perfect you were. I counted your 10 fingers and 10 toes but I recall clear as day being drawn to what would become your signature — your eyes. Those beautiful, blue, little windows to the soul as evident then as they were every day of your too short, full to the brim life.

 

When you entered the world and the doctor placed you in my arms it was your eyes that got me — your little blue eyes, squinting as you took in the newness of the world — a tad brighter on the outside then it was inside the cramped quarters of my belly. Through tears of joy and the intense love I felt at that moment when I would finally meet my little prince, it was through those little, blue wondering eyes that I saw your soul. It seemed that as you grew, the bluer your eyes became and then those eyelashes arrived! It seemed so unfair that a boy would be so blessed with the eyelashes every girl dreamed of having.

 

Your eyes told great stories, Will. Stories of wonderment and adventure, of lessons learned and of the sometimes trouble you’d find yourself in, of the mischief you’d pitch and of the love that you believed could conquer everything (and it did). Your eyes could smile and laugh too and, of course, they could also spill big alligator tears when you were sad or hurt. I will always cherish how telling they were — how with one look at your eyes I knew how you were feeling (and, I might add, if you were telling the truth).

 

One thing that always got me was how you’d draw me in with your eyes and when you had my attention how you’d flare your nostrils in and out, in and out until I couldn’t help but laugh or lose it. This was a Willy tactic for sure and you’d use it frequently…. Most times when I was angry with you or when I needed your attention. I also recall that it became a Ben “button pusher” and was as annoying to him as the tried and tested “copy everything you say” strategy to have him want to pound you. Funny thing, Finn our big brown dog does it too. I swear it’s you, Will. He draws me in through his eyes just like you did and once he’s got me, BAM, the nostril-flaring thing begins. It gets me every time.

 

When I look at photos of you I am still drawn to your blue eyes. In some of the photos like the one Mary shared with me recently (the one above) I feel like you are staring at me and I feel your big love.

 

Your beautiful blue eyes are unforgettable, Will. Those beautiful blue eyes. No question, they were the windows to your soul.

 

I love you, Little Blue.. More than everything and a bus and a blue sky the colour of your eyes.

 

 

 

Momxo

September 30, 2020

My sweet boy,

Fall has arrived. It surprises me every year how the first, tiny hints of yellow leaves in late August turn into a splendor of yellow in just a few short weeks. How the mornings go from warm, doors-wide-open and coffee outside on the deck to cool, brisk mornings, cozy sweaters and coffee in front of the fireplace. Aahhh… but I do love this transition. And so, this week I traded my shorts and sleeveless tops for cozy sweaters and warm socks all the while knowing that you’re still wearing shorts up there.

I am sitting this early, fall morning in front of the fireplace with a big cup of coffee, our big brown dog at my feet reminiscing over memories of you and your brothers and how you guys would hold onto summer for as long as you could. Succumbing to fall didn’t happen until it snowed, it seemed. I smile remembering how as September waned and the mornings turned cool you and your brothers would defy wearing pants – always deferring to shorts. Some of those mornings were darn cold. Most days the grass would be white with frost as you’d bolt out the front door to catch the school bus. Hoodies were the thing, of course, and at least you guys would put those on. I remember watching from the front window as you waited for the bus; your skinny, spindly legs shaking, your hands tucked in the front pocket of your hoodie, shoulders up to your ears, looking like a turtle with your overstuffed backpack slung on your back. I remember suggesting many a morning that wearing pants might be a good option, but not until water puddles turned to ice and stayed frozen would you and your brothers succumb to that mom tip (and for what its worth, a natural consequence was always a better convincing tool in the ‘ole parenting handbook ). Packing away those summer shorts was a sad day in our house. Stretching out summer for as long as possible was the norm and looking back on my own childhood it was the very same.

When you’d return home from school your backpack was even more stuffed because the hoodie that kept you from freezing in the morning was now sort of, somewhat, portions of it anyway, tucked into your backpack. I recall the thunk of your backpack hitting the floor at the front door because of the weight of all it held… a textbook or two, your agenda, your lunchbox, a gym strip (if you hadn’t forgot it), your pencil box and homework (if you hadn’t forgot it), your iPod and some miscellaneous odds and ends… remember the yo-yo stage and the coveted binder of Pokémon cards and hockey cards? I smile recalling how you’d barely set foot inside the door to shed your pack and yell, “Mom, I’m home!” only to turn around and run back out the door because playing outside was the best part of your day. Gosh, I loved that so much.

And, then there were all the pockets full of rocks. I remember, (most times with an eye roll) how I’d routinely check all your pockets before I put a load of laundry into the washing machine. There is something unnerving about hearing rocks roll around in the washer… and there were many that went undetected… which is why I had to check your pockets. A pocket full of rocks seemed to be a regular occurrence in our family… your brothers, too, loved rocks and it is no secret that I love them too. I frequently return with a rock or two and sometimes a pocket full (I take back all the eye roll). I guess the apples didn’t fall far from the proverbial tree.

I think loving the fall season in all it’s splendor might be something one acquires a love for as one gets older. It is certainly true for me. Saying goodbye to summer seems a bit easier now as the furnace kicks in. So, hello fall, I’m ready for you. Cozy sweater and all. In a bit, I’ll head out for a walk with Finn and undoubtedly I’ll return with a rock or two or a pocket full. I’m pretty sure, Willy, that you’ll help me find the best ones.

I love you, sweet one. More than a bus and more than a cozy sweater for me, shorts for you and a pocket full of rocks for us.

Momxo

November 12, 2017

 Dear Will,

 

In the still of this Sunday morning I wake to the beauty of this day – it is quiet as I lie here in my bed… the sun is shining, Finn is sleeping at the foot of the bed and my mind is busy making a list of all the stuff that I have intentions of tackling today. And yet, all this aside, my heart yearns for the little voice that is you saying “Mom, please get up. I’ve got people to see and places to go. And bacon would be so awesome this morning!”

 

I wish I could reply, “Hold on, sweet guy. Relax. It’s 7:20 am and we’ve plenty of time.” I remind myself that whatever I do (or don’t do) today that you are with me every step of the way, every minute of every day. Instead of rushing to get up and get going with my list I succumb to days gone by and I get lost in memories of Sunday mornings when you were at my bedside bugging me to get up. When the tears become too much and I feel like I’m on the slippery slope to not getting out of bed at all, I decide to get up and make myself a big cup of tea. Minutes later, I’m at the kitchen table writing you this letter.

 

There is a bird in the tree outside my big kitchen window and he seems intent on garnering my attention. A little guy, probably a chickadee, who is bouncing from branch to branch… and I just know it’s you. I stare at him for a few moments until he flitters away. A few minutes later he returns. More bounce bounce bounce.   He stops and looks at me. I imagine he is saying, “I saw you crying in your bed, Mom. Think about the good days and all the happy times. Remember me when I made you smile and we laughed together. If you believe that I am truly with you in this moment, I know I can make you smile.” What happens next? I’m smiling at that bouncing little bird.

 

He flies away again… and a few minutes later he returns. Bounce bounce bounce. It seems he has more to say. “Just look at me out here on this tree. I’m free as a bird and never far away. I will always be here and when you need me just call my name. I promise I will hear you because I miss you too, Mom.” Ok, I’m still smiling, but I can feel the tears coming again. He continues, “Our journey together will never end, Mom, because we’re a forever thing. I visit you often because I miss you, too, but this jumping from branch to branch thing is a whole lot of fun and you’d have never allowed me to climb this high.” He’s right. The only way he’d have climbed that high is if I wasn’t home.

 

Gosh, I needed that little bird today. More than all the tea in China. Thanks, sweet Will, for your visit and for your message. It means the world to me.

 

Love you, sweet boy. More than a bus, little bouncing chickadees and all the tea in China.

 

Momxo