Because We’re A Forever Thing

ByJoni Bouchard

DSC00069 copyWednesday, February 25, 2015

Dear Will,

I’ve been thinking that in the last little bit you’ve been a lot of places looking out for many that need a little more WillPower than usual. Gosh, the ones that I know about are many and the ones that you are watching over that I will never know must be countless. Maybe they beckoned you, maybe you were at the right place at the right time, and maybe you’ll never leave those who will need you always. That would be me, Will, because you and I are a forever thing.

I believe that you are on the mountains in Andorra and Japan with one of the bravest and most beautiful girls we know who has skied her way into competing on the world stage in junior freeskiing. Then there’s your cousin who needs you to help heal his badly broken leg (not to mention he’ll need you to help him eat all of the candy that Pa’s been giving him 1) to keep his spirits up, and 2) to keep him anchored ON the couch). I know you’re hanging around your special childhood friend who carries you always in her heart as she works through decisions on what comes after high school and the big question, “what the heck am I gonna do now?” Wait till you see her in her grad gown, Will… she’ll be the most beautiful girl in that big room. There’s also the freestyle twins who are never without their WillPower bands, your ski racing pal who takes you to all of his races, and your ski buddy who is nursing an injury he suffered while training.

I’m beginning to believe that the ski community that knew you and those who sadly didn’t but know about you now, take you with them each time they put on their skis. Be it freestyle comps or downhill races or just for the fun of it the WillPower you bring to each of them is a common thread. I am grateful too that you are sending a little extra WillPower to my dear friend who is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders as she moves through one of life’s biggest challenges. With you on one side and me on the other we can help her, Will. We can.

As busy as you are spreading about WillPower and watching over those that you care about I am ever grateful that you watch over me too. It is you who whispers in my ear “Mom, you can do this” when I’m not sure that I can. When I’m full of fraught you help me find perspective, you encourage me to look for the silver lining in life’s struggles and sometimes you tell me to crawl back under the covers for a little while. I know you’re behind my smile these days and that you’re never far away. Your footsteps are all over my heart and when I need you I just whisper your name and in you come with open arms and twinkling blue eyes, sometimes dancing or jumping and flipping, and always, always with a WillBilly smile.

I love you like a bus, Little Blue, and because you and I are a forever thing, I always will.

Momxo

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  • Our Maui Vacation with You

         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. 
    Sitting on our dinner table
      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

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  • So Long, May

    will

    Sunday, May 29, 2016

    So Long May

    Dear Will,

    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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  • Baby Steps and Back Home

    Will, Murray, and Ben at Cannon Beach, Oregon (July 2010)
    Will, Murray, and Ben at Cannon Beach, Oregon
    (end of July 2010)
    August 16, 2013 (818 days)   Dear Willy, Dad and I and Finn didn’t make it to Cannon Beach, Oregon as we’d planned because your brother became quite ill and ended up in the hospital with viral myocarditis.  The last day of our vacation in Hood River was full of telephone calls and texts from Ben and Justin keeping us abreast of what was taking place back home.  When Ben ended up being admitted to hospital, Dad and I knew we needed to come home.  I know you get this and I’m even thinking that you already know the whole story… as I am quite certain that in some special Willy Angel way you were watching over Ben whilst keeping us safe on our long drive home. Once home and when we learned that Ben was going to be fine, I was trying to make sense of all that had happened and I think maybe I wasn’t yet ready to visit Cannon Beach again.  All summer, I was guardedly looking forward to that part of our holiday but as the day crept closer I found myself welling up with tears at the thought of being there without you.  It is a beautiful and special place as it was where you saw the ocean for the first time and seeing the ocean was something that you always wanted to see.  Just thinking about it made my stomach feel shaky and my heart feel heavier than usual. Knowing that we needed to go North back to Canada instead of West felt right as I knew that home was where I needed and wanted to be.  Next summer we will try again to get back to that special place on the ocean; and maybe in another year it’ll be easier.  We still take baby steps, Will, trying so hard to move forward when all we want is to go back to when you were with us here.  If only we could… you know we would. Miss you little one.  More than a bus. Momxo

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  • It’s Angel Food Cake Day in Our House

    October 14, 2023,

    My dear, sweet Will,

    The passage of time is often marked by the change of seasons but in my world there are two days in the calendar year that mark that time more than any other day or event. One is the day we celebrate your birth and the other is the day we had to say goodbye. Those two days are polar opposites of each other – one being one of the happiest of days and the other, the worst day of my life. Today we celebrate one of my happiest markers, your birthday, and that means it is angel food cake day in our house.

    My heart was heavy this morning, Willy. Who’d have ever imagined that the angel food cake that had 12 candles on it would be the last we’d have with you physically sitting at the head of the table. The big breath you took to try and extinguish all of those little fires will always be emblazoned in my memory. It’s hard to imagine that today that angel food cake should have 25 candles on it. That’s a hard number…

    It was tough to get out of bed this morning. Sometimes those tears can be extra heavy. I got stuck thinking about the glass half empty instead of the glass half full, and when I thought about what you’d want me to do today the glass half empty suddenly shifted to the glass half full. I know you’d want us to celebrate the 12 years we had with you and not dwell on the 13 we didn’t get. I thought about how your brothers and Dad and I have always celebrated you on this day and how we will never stop. Of course, there will be an angel food cake and though we will never know what 25 would really look like, we do know that the 12 we had were the BEST we had.

    Happy Heavenly Birthday, Will. There is much to celebrate today. You made our world a better place and because of that, October 14th will always be angel food cake day in our house.

    I miss you more than ever. And the bus… well, I love you more than a bus full of angel food cakes and 25 WILLion candles.

    Momxo

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  • Our Christmas Memory Tree

    December 21, 2013 Dear Will, Christmas is almost here and though I am trying to focus on the good things that will be part of our Christmas this year, memories of you and our Christmases past are the only things that occupy my mind.  I go through the motions but just past my eyelids are tears that I have been trying so hard to suppress.  This morning is different.  It is quiet in the house; I’m the only one up, I’ve made myself a cup of tea, turned on the lights on the Christmas tree and now I can let my tears fall.   I sit here wanting only to spend some time with you.
    Will's Santa Hat
    Your Santa Hat
    As daylight is beginning to show its face, I stare at our tree and all the memories of you that adorn it.  Since your angel date our Christmas tree has become a Memory Tree.  Instead of the angel that we used to put on top, we have placed your Santa hat.  I smiled while putting it up there looking at the way you printed your name with a sharpie on the inside when you were in kindergarten.  The bigger the space, the bigger you printed.  Your name is really just a bunch of sticks and being the third child we chose a name that, of course, we loved and was meaningful, but at the same time was going to be easy for you to print when you were little and beginning school.  Will (not William) was perfect for so many reasons! There are tiny white twinkly lights from top to bottom and on each branch is a Fernie family ski pass; all five of us from all the years we were Fernie pass holders.  You and your brothers have been Fernie pass holders all of your lives and as I look at the photos on each pass I remember so many fun times.  The photos on these (expensive) little pieces of plastic are a chronological record of how each of you have grown and changed from year to year; from tots to big boys and Justin and Ben, now young men.  There is one of you that is all bent and I smile remembering it was the one that you didn’t remove from your ski pants before throwing them in the dryer (one of those wet snow days!) and it had begun to melt from the high heat.  When I look closely, Will, I notice you weren’t the only one that forgot… For the last two Christmases I have added three ornaments each year to signify you and your brothers.  The first year I found three white sparkly stars.  I wrote your names on each of the stars and hung them in the same order as your star on Orion’s belt in the Orion Constellation.  Sandy and Don Bietz (your kindergarten teacher and her husband) dedicated this star to you after your angel date so it made perfect sense that I put three stars on our tree.
    My Three Stars
    My Three Stars
    You, Justin, and Ben
    You are in the middle and Justin and Ben are on each side protecting you.  I have to tell you (and I’m pretty sure you’ll find this funnier than I did !*?#) that when I came home from work a couple of weeks ago, the three stars were on the ground.  The string of tree lights was askew and had been pulled across the carpet.  The cord was chewed through and a couple of the bulbs were missing (we have new lights now).  Finn!  I panicked while Finn skulked out of the living room with his head down low and his tail between his legs.  Little bugger… he knew he’d done wrong.  What I was worried about most were the three stars.  When I picked them up both of your brother’s stars were chewed on the ends but yours was perfect.  They are all back on the tree in the order I’d originally put them.  Perhaps next Christmas I’ll smile remembering that story but it’s a very small smile now.  Last year I hung three snowflakes and this year three glittery peace signs.
    Your hand-sewn Gingerbread Boy
    Your hand-sewn Gingerbread Boy
    Here and there I hung the Christmas ornaments that you made in school and up high (where Finn could not possibly reach or see) I placed amongst the branches the brown felt gingerbread boy that you had hand-sewn and stuffed when you were in grade 2.   All are Priceless handmade memories that I value more than anything. Nana and Pa will come and spend Christmas with us this year and that will be special.  That makes me smile but I wish more than anything that you were here, too; that you’d be with us in your pajamas on Christmas morning.  Like the last two Christmases, Willy, under the tree will be the last gift that we unwrap — a new jigsaw puzzle from you to us.  A gift that will give us hours and hours of family time while we remember you and how much we miss you and love you. Happy Heavenly Christmas to you up there, Will.  I know you’ll be looking down on us and that in many ways you’ll be with us on this favorite holiday of yours. Missing you so much… and love you like a bus. Momxo

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  • No Dental Visits in Heaven

    Happy Times... Will and his friend, Natasha Happy Times… Will and his friend, Natasha
    Tuesday, March 31, 2015 Hey Will, I just got home from the dentist and I was there for a long time this afternoon (yuk)! It is no surprise that most people do not like dental work. This was certainly true when it came to you having to visit the dentist. Even regular cleanings and check-ups would throw you into a tailspin. The novelty of the dentist’s treasure chest full of bouncy balls, rings, green slimy sticky hands, and army men in parachutes that got all tangled up in the string wore off quicker for you than others and I remember once having to make good on a promise that I’d buy you a new Beanie Baby after a check-up. A dental visit for you was rarely a positive experience. More than your brothers you were the one that seemed to have the most uncomfortable dental appointments in our family. When your friends were excited about wiggly teeth you were the opposite because for you it was quite possible that it meant a trip to the dentist. Your baby teeth, Will, just never wanted to come out on their own. Those little buggers might still be in there if Dr. Mike didn’t have to pull them out. Imagine your mouth full of teeth – baby ones and big ones, rows upon rows… It was difficult for me to have to take you when I knew how nervous and upset it made you but it was out of necessity that you needed to go. No mom I know would choose to put her child through that much discomfort if it wasn’t necessary. Necessary was the part that was hard for you to understand. As I lay in the dental chair today thoughts of you and your teeth were all I could think about. I had taken my iPhone with me thinking that I’d pass the time listening to music but not once did I put in my ear buds. I couldn’t think about music when all I could think about was you. I was remembering all the times when you were small that I sat and held your little hand while you were in the chair and the couple of times when the dental assistant had to ask me to leave because occasionally it was worse when I was there. Sometimes I think it hurt me as much as it hurt you when I had to take you to the dentist. Watching you try so hard to be brave when a tear or two would fall out of your eye and down your cheek all the while knowing that the floodgates were holding back many more was heartbreaking. And most times we hadn’t even arrived at the dental office yet… sometimes we hadn’t even left home. What I thought about the most though was how happy you must be to not have to worry about seeing the dentist anymore. Heaven knows no pain, Will, so that can only mean there are no dental visits for you up there. When I close my eyes I can see you giving me a big thumbs up for that. And I can also hear you telling me that those big slimy green hands that stuck not only to windows and mirrors, but to carpets, upholstery, and my hair were the best toys in the treasure chest. Sure do miss you, Willy. Way, way more than you miss not seeing the dentist. Love you like a bus, Momxo

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