And a New Chapter Begins…
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Dear Will,
It’s been a while since I’ve put pen to paper (or as one would say nowadays, fingers to QWERTY keyboard). It is not for lack of thinking of you or talking to you, in fact, it wouldn’t surprise me to hear you say, “you sure do talk a lot, Mom.” Duh, no surprise there. I’ve tried all summer to find the right time to just sit with you instead of nattering to you endlessly while I purged and packed, sold and donated, dumped and repurposed, unpacked and nested, arranged and rearranged…. and I’m still doing it. Summer has been full of all of that and lots of road trips back and forth from Redwood to Fernie. And now, the next chapter has officially begun.
This chapter begins with downsizing from our five bedroom home to two (and a bunkie). How novel for the Bouchard’s to own one home instead of maintaining two for so many years. We said goodbye to our home in Redwood on August 6th and though we knew our farewell to 22 years in Redwood Meadows would be difficult, let me just tell you that I created my own little river of tears as I said goodbye to every room in our home. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing that we were relocating to the mountain town where we have played as a family for 28 years. You always said you wanted to move here and well, here we are, Willy!
What makes this easier is knowing that you are very much here with us. Not surprising, part of you and us will live in the trees and on the paths beside the river in Redwood Meadows. The indelible memories of having lived the very best of life raising you and your brothers in such a safe and magical place is inseparable. It’s a kind of “you can take the mom out of Redwood but you can’t take Redwood out of the mom” kind of feeling. I do wholeheartedly believe that one cannot ever really leave Redwood. Kind of like the Eagles’ Hotel California in some ways.
It is important to note that living in our mountain play place full time is a transition and will take some time as Dad is still very much working in Calgary. Retirement is not in the short term picture yet but owning one home sure has its advantages. Dad and Ben are renting a condo in Calgary… two peas in a pod living very much in a pod. My frequent trips to Calgary will include visits to the condo, visits with Justin and Amy at their home and visits with my forever friends in Redwood and Bragg Creek. I look forward to all of this as it would have been impossibly difficult to move “cold turkey”.
Having you with me, Will, is the constant in this life that makes everything possible. There is peace knowing that it matters not where we are, but who we take with us in our hearts that is most important. This time, my sweet boy, it was I who took your hand and lead you down hwy 22 and then a right onto hwy 3 instead of you taking mine while we danced in the clouds. And now that I’m here my hand is back in yours ready to dance once again in the heavenly skies.
I love you, Willy. More than all the happy times in Redwood packed into a bus beside the Elbow River where the little blue butterflies flutter and the most magical of snowflakes fall (sometimes too frequently… like in the late spring… grrrr). That is big love, my sweet boy. Big. Bus. Love.
Momxo
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December 22, 2018
Dear sweet boy,
In these final, few days before Christmas I am stopping to pause; to give myself permission to escape this busy bubble of hustle and bustle so I can spend a day uninterrupted with you. As the busy season unfolds I struggle more with losing you than I normally do. Every December feels like this. Perhaps it is because there is such a strong focus on family and for us, well, it is out of order and interrupted. We carry on as best as we can because we know you’d want us to spend Christmas doing and being and loving as we always did. And so we do. For you. And because of you.
Last night was a restless one for me. I tossed and turned, waking frequently with thoughts of you and Christmases past. Memories that would shake me awake followed by a sense of urgency to want to close my eyes and try to lull myself back to those very precious times. It was a bittersweet dance and after hours of going back and forth I decided that writing a letter to you while I sat in the early morning darkness amidst the lights on our Christmas tree would be time well spent. I always do feel better after a conversation with you.
As I sipped my hot tea I thought about the magic of Christmas and how you, being the youngest of the three boys, were the one who kept the Santa magic alive for all of us for many years. I laughed recalling some of the tactics Justin and Ben would use to keep you believing that without a doubt there really was a white bearded, chubby guy in a red suit that made and brought presents, but only if you were on the good kid list. They had explanations for every question and played along not wanting to ruin it for you (… probably because I threatened them and I’m quite sure the thought of no Santa gifts was a pretty strong deterrent). I did hear recently of a funny albeit brilliant story of a mom who told her two boys that the smoke alarms in the house were Santa cams and that when the green light was on (which, of course, is always on) it meant that Santa was watching. Everyday. All year long. I wonder how long that worked? Your brothers weren’t quite that menacing.
Mostly, Will, I remembered how much fun we had every Christmas and how important it was for all of us to be together. Never did I ever imagine that we’d have a Christmas without you and that “never” actually meant forever. The pain of losing a child is unimaginable and I believe wholeheartedly that the human spirit can only go to that kind of pain if it has no choice but to. Seven years into our grief journey I feel like we have come to a place now that we can find moments of joy again but it is because we have surrounded our Christmas with memories of you. You are our Santa and the angel atop of our tree. The last gift under the tree is always a jigsaw puzzle to us from you. You are the candle light on our Christmas table and as we toast the season and each other we toast you as well. I do feel your presence and know with my whole heart that you are with us and that you always will be.
This summer I photographed some of your journal writings from your grade 7 school year. Indubitably what we didn’t know then was that Christmas 2010 was your last Christmas with us on earth. I scrolled through my photos and found what you’d written about Christmas that year.
I’ve read and re-read your words not only for what you said but loving how your writing looked and how I remembered it to be. Your message reflects the true essence of Christmas. Simple and thoughtful. It really is not so much about the receiving part and so much more about the giving. Just like you wrote. That you felt like that at 12 years old makes me a proud mom.
Our tree this year is full of our ski passes as usual and new this year I filled it with fuzzy, soft snowballs. They remind me so much of you. And your brothers, too. I hope it makes you smile as you look down on it. Yup, your Santa hat is still at the top as our angel.
As the morning dawns I think about my list… all the things I need to do… the last minute shopping, the wrapping, the cleaning. And then I looked at your face on your last Fernie ski pass and decided to go make myself another cup of tea. I grabbed a blanket and returned to where I last sat in front of our tree. There is no rush. It will all get done. It always does. More important, today is about you and me.
I miss you so much, sweet Will. More than words can describe.
And, I love you. Like a bus. Full of Christmas love, snowballs, candlelight, childhood memories and everything that is you at Christmas. Sigh…
Momxo
I love the light shining through in this post. Moving is often a challenge, a transition with its ups and downs. I know you will be so happy in Fernie with your mountains and friends and Will is so present there. And I’m sure those little blue butterflies followed the little blue toaster down that highway, excited to share the new beginning with you and Murray. XOXO
You just always know what to say, my friend. The visual of the little blue butterflies following my little blue toaster down the highway made my heart a little lighter. Love that. And the bus full of love… well it’s full for you, too. Love you, my bestie. 💟