Biking for Freedom… and Candy and Ice Cream

ByJoni Bouchard

BicyclesTuesday, April 24, 2012 (11 months and 2 days)

Hey WillBilly,

I got a new bike today.   And I parked it right beside yours.   Side by side they stand next to each other like a mom and a son… mine taller than yours, but not by much, just like the height of you and me.  I am reminded of how important it was that you and your brothers had your bikes; a boy and his bike went hand and hand, like peanut butter and jam.  It always made me so happy that we chose Redwood to call our home; a rare place in a world that is so busy; and a place where boys and bikes could be best friends.  I think back to the freedom that came with being able to ride your bike to the park with your friends without a parent.  What a right of passage, a momentous adventure it was for each of you.  And then to be able to ride to Bragg Creek for ice cream or candy (or both!?)… well, that was the ultimate in freedom at twelve years of age and, in fact, was what you did on that Saturday afternoon of your last weekend with us.  You and Matt rode into Bragg Creek returning with a bag full of “sugar” from the candy store; the little white bag still sits on your desk with the candy you were saving to enjoy later.  You were funny that way; always spacing out the candy consumption – saving bits and pieces for another time, another day.  There were times, Will, (cover your ears!) when I had to throw out some of that candy for fear of it going bad.  For a long time the chocolate Easter bunny that you received last Easter sat on the floor beside your desk, package open and one ear missing because you liked to eat it that way, and I had to throw it out.  You never noticed… or you never said anything and well, I have a hard time believing that you’d have let me throw it out without making a kafuffle.  I can hear it now, “Throw away candy!  Why, Mom, would anyone ever do that!?  That should be against the law!”  Hmmm.  I did win that time… because, like I said, I don’t think you knew.

So, now I have a bike too.  Wheels to freedom for me?  Well certainly not in the same way as it was for you, but it will be nice to ride to Bragg Creek along the path to freedom that you enjoyed and then beyond to the beauty of our bigger backyard west of Bragg Creek.  I will always take you with me on my bike, Will, and when I stop for ice cream it will be for you.  I’ll order mango; your favorite.

Love you like a bus and all those bike rides to the candy store and for ice cream.

Momxo

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  • Celebrating Every Tiny Moment

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    Sunday, March 13, 2016

    Hey Little Blue,

     

    It has been a week of much reflection. A week of questions with no answers, of traumatic flashbacks and a week of friends having to find their way amidst their own losses. The circle of life is not always an easy one but I know firsthand that when there is deep sadness it means there is deep love. I was reminded over and over of how small we really are and of how little control we have in this big picture we call life.

     

    There are two special women who have woven threads into my own life story and who have taught me heaps about life and loss, grief and sadness. They shared their voices with me and spun yet another perspective on life and loss. They invited me to see their loss through their eyes and painted a beautiful picture of not what could have been or should have been, but what is. Their stories are incredibly beautiful and inspiring and I feel so blessed to know them.

     

    Come Thursday, I found myself “needing” our weekly drive to the mountains and when Dad and I headed to Fernie that afternoon I felt that I could once again fill my lungs with a big breath and see the beauty that surrounded me with quiet, thoughtful eyes. I had a plan, Will, and for my Type A personality that felt pretty darn good. (Remember how some of my plans would drive you boys crazy? Well, that’s Type A for you and good or bad I must tell you that I still have that). Rather than stay in sadness I was going to search for and celebrate all the tiny beautiful moments I could find. The crazy part though was that, much to my surprise, the tiny moments found me. At first I was dumbfounded? And then I knew. It was you, Will. It had to be you. It was you.

     

    Snowflakes that fell while the sun shone? That could only be you. Tiny, new shoots of green poking up through patches of ice and snow? Pretty sure that was you. A lone ladybug crawling across the windowsill in our bedroom? Yup, you again. The tiny glimpse I had of your star in the night sky when everyone claimed that it was cloudy and overcast? Had to be you. And the teeny tiny heart shaped rock that I found while walking Finn on Saturday? Hands down, that was you.

     

    With each of those tiny moments comes a smile that begins in my heart and radiates outward. These seemingly little things are what matter most and the impact they carry is huge. They are the necessary reminders that keep me keepin’ on because they are you. You’re a funny one, Will, always the boy who loved to poke and to have the last word (even when it got you into trouble). I will never tire of these tiny, magical moments you sprinkle about my world. Each one a tiny moment worthy of a celebration.

     

    Love you, Little Blue. Like a bus… full to the brim with tiny celebrations.

     

     

    Momxo

     

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  • The Five or So People You Meet in Heaven

    Will – Grade 7 Basketball

    March 16, 2017

     

    Dear Will,

     

    As I’m sure you already know, your Grade 7 teacher (Mrs. Harford) has joined you on the other side and I wonder if you may have been one of the five or so people that met her in heaven? She was so lovely in so many ways and was a teacher that had begun to make a real difference in your learning of important life skills.

     

    She had some real “mom like” qualities and was determined to teach you that amongst the obvious academics, you needed to know the importance of good organizational and strong time management skills. Stuff that I, as your mom, tried to teach you and your brothers over and over and over… A few things that Mrs. Harford had over me were 1) she wasn’t your mom, 2) she didn’t see how well you could dig in your heels, and 3) she was so lovely all of the time.

     

    One thing you did super well was to present what you thought most important to a 12 year old boy and as I look back, YOUR grade 7 real world perspective was important. Well, most of it…

     

    Friends and sleepovers and the importance of a bike and a pair of skis… A voice that always mattered and a warm bed… Help with homework and a ride to all those early morning practices… Age appropriate freedom like biking to school and ripping down to the park on your skateboard…Eating cookie dough and choosing your own new shoes, icecream and marshmallow science (when I wasn’t home), sitting ON Dad and a before bed tuck-in.

     

    All these things were so important to you and though I didn’t buy in to candy before dinner and chocolate before bed you didn’t seem hungry when an apple or banana was the option, nor were you receptive to the word “no” even when “yes” was out of the question. (This is where Mrs. Harford didn’t see how well you could dig in your heels.) Grade 7 — a time when you were really coming into your own.

     

    On Wednesday afternoon Mrs. Fisher sat beside me on the couch in front of our big living room window and as we shared tears and talked about Mrs. Harford’s battle with cancer she exclaimed mid-sentence, “look, it’s snowing? It’s Will!” The uncanny thing about this scenario is that it was +8 C and it should have been impossible for it to snow, but it did. You have taught me that nothing is impossible in heaven and so it was at that moment we agreed that you and Mrs. Harford had just met each other on the other side. Crazy? I think not. Why? Because you have taught me so much about the other side and what it’s like there. How else can one even try to explain snowflakes on a warm, sunny, spring day?

     

    I hope that you were on your best behavior on Wednesday and that weren’t talking out of turn. Were you tidy and organized and on time? I know you may not have had matching socks or combed your hair (really, I can’t even remember a time when that actually happened down here, but you had that kind of hair!). All this aside, I do imagine that you had the biggest smile and that your bright, blue eyes and zest for fun showed her that you’d make it feel like some of the best parts of her life up there — in heaven where the skies are always blue and there is no such thing as cancer.

     

    Love you sweet Will. Like a bus carrying the five or so people that met Mrs. Harford in heaven. Stay close to her, Will. She still had so much to teach you.

     

     

    Momxo

     

     

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  • Shorts For You, A Cozy Sweater For Me, and a Pocket Full of Rocks for Us

    ourwill copy.jpg

    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.

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    You and your pals. Brent and Jordan.

    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

    willandme
    You and me finding rocks in Fernie.

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  • Forever My Son. Forever Your Mom.

    Monday, May 11, 2026

    My sweet Will,

    As you well know, Mother’s Day holds a lot of bittersweet emotions for me. Being a mom to you and your brothers brought me the most joy and even still with Ben and Justin in their 30s, the second Sunday in May still just means so much. The nostalgia at remembering how lovely it felt to be surrounded by the three of you and celebrated on this day is something I will always treasure. It is the sweetest feeling to be called Mom and it will always be top of my list of who I am and who I still choose to be. At the end of my life if I could choose to be remembered for only one thing it would hands down be being a mom to you and your brothers. I loved being your mom, Will, and though I miss you in ways I cannot even put to words, you will forever be my son and I will forever be your mom.

     I dream of the day when you and I meet again and though that place and that day feels other worldly and so far away right now, I know it will be my life’s biggest circle moment. I dream of it often.

    I felt your warmth and your love yesterday and as the words, Happy Mother’s Day were spoken by Justin and Ben I heard your whisper in the little blue butterfly that I saw on my walk along the river path yesterday… I knew it was you.

    In a week from now, and looming over me as I write to you is the undeniable lead-up to the hardest day of every of the last fifteen long weekends of May. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of no physical you, no bursts through the front door, no phone calls or texts or warm physical hugs. I will say, however, that I do still see you and hear you and feel you, and I thank God every single day that you live within me and that my imagination is as clear and as clever as you ever were. I got you, Willy. Forever. 

    I miss you sweet one. Forever my son, forever your mom, and forever loved on our forever big bus.

    Momxo

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  • Hanging In Heaven With Your Papa

    Christmas Eve 2023

    Good morning, my sweet boy,

    In my world you are the brightest star in the night time sky; the one in the middle of the three stars that make up Orion’s Belt but there is another bright star in the night sky this Christmas…. we all know it as the North Star, but to me it is also my dad and your papa. I know you’ve been hanging with him since he joined you in June and I just know you have shown him your favourite parts of heaven — back and forth between the snowiest mountains to the rainbow bridge where all the dogs live. I laugh a little knowing that those dogs love having you and Papa up there. You, throwing ball after ball after ball and Papa, feeding them all of the very best treats and cereal in a bowl every morning. 

    Today is Christmas Eve and there is joy, but there is also a heaviness that time still cannot erase. When I set the table tonight, and even now as I stare at it, there is an undeniable emptiness that magnifies the empty chair more at this time of year than any other. My heart knows that the sadness, the heaviness in my chest, is the weight of the big love that you brought and continue to bring to me and Dad and your brothers. 

    I am grateful that I am in a place where I can find joy in this season but at the same time I cannot help but think of my mom and how hard it is for her to find joy when she is grieving the loss of my dad. This is the first Christmas for my mom without my dad. The first Christmas in 64 years that Nana will spend without Papa. While it is a gift to have had so many Christmases together, it is also difficult to imagine a Christmas without him. Of course, there will be a bright, beautiful candle on my sister’s table when they all gather for dinner tomorrow. That candle representing Papa (and you) and the love and light that you continue to bring to us. And, Will, wait until you see our table tonight! Instead of a candle this year, you will be a winter wonderland of snow and twinkling lights that only an earth angel would know how to assemble. And tucked in right beside you and the twinkling lights will be your papa.

    I’ve a special Christmas wish this year and one that only you can make happen. As you and Papa time travel tonight and tomorrow can you please drop Papa off at Nana’s and let him dwell there with my sweet mom for the entire holiday? Can you make sure that Nana sees him and hears him and can you make sure that her tears turn from sorrow into joy. Can you tell Papa that we love him and that we miss him and that in this whole, big, old world there is no one that misses him more than Nana. Remind Papa to tell Nana that it’s quite alright to feed the dog cereal from a bowl every morning and that up in that vast space we call heaven that he will always love and miss his one true love. Then come to our table so we can bask in all the wonder that is you. I am grateful every minute for the love that you continue to bring to us and I am happy that you are hanging in heaven with your Papa.

    I love you, Willy. Like a bus and more than Christmas and all the beauty that this season brings. Sure, there is joy, because we find it in love but, dang, that empty chair still hurts. 

    Happy Christmas, little blue.

    Momxo

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  • The Afterglow of a Bike Ride

     
    Will's Friends Ride For Will!
    Will’s Friends Ride For Will!
    Wednesday, June 18, 2014   Dear Will,   On Saturday, your Third Annual Ride For Will was held here in the community that was (and still is) your home. It was a beautiful day sandwiched between two rainy ones and my fingers were crossed, hopeful that you’d help out by keeping the rain away…. In the back of my mind I was preparing for a ten minute down pour at some point during the event, your signature “gotcha!” way of wanting to always have the last word, and in the end I was thrilled that you waited until we were safe inside.   Three years and three rides have yielded almost $150,000 to your Foundation and I am still awestruck at what happens on this day each June that we call The Ride For Will. People, young and old, show up with smiles and pledges, with hugs and support, not only to benefit your Foundation, but to honor you and show their support for Dad and I and your brothers. It is a memorable and most beautiful bittersweet day that renews our hope that you will never be forgotten. To me, there is something timeless about a bike. The simple pleasure it provides and the freedom it symbolizes is a right of passage in our neck of the woods for each and every child that grows up in this community. I will always remember the excitement that precluded any bike ride into Bragg Creek for icecream or candy and when you and your friends could do it without an adult ride-a-long, quite frankly, you’d hit the big time. Now, Will, your friends are driving to the city in their cars instead of packing their pockets with loose change to buy candy and icecream and that alone is difficult to accept at times. The passing of time is indeed a tough pill to swallow and I am quite sure it always will be.   What is magical about your Ride is that your friends and people who didn’t have the chance to know you show up with their bikes, adorned with WillPower bands, and I Ride For Will stickers on their helmets and bikes. They ride and stop at the refreshment stations and fill up on free candy and freeze pops, pedal to the school and back passing all of the familiar landmarks that were second nature to you. When I see your buddies on their bikes they magically become twelve again and though you aren’t there, YOU ARE. I am hopeful that you will always be with them in some way.  Whenever I see a boy on a bike, I am immediately thrown back into the many memories of you ripping out of the cul-de-sac with your pant leg tucked in your sock (if you weren’t wearing shorts!) in a hurry to meet a friend or two at the bike jumps or the soccer field or at a friend’s house to play. Those were the gifts of an ordinary day growing up here and memories that I will always treasure.   The Apres Ride BBQ and Silent Auction/Raffles that follow your Ride are amazing too. The love and support that shows up at our community Redwood House in burgers and icecream, in items donated for people to bid on and the lure of a raffle item is also magical. The entire day is beyond anything that I can describe and when I think back to three years ago how a few friends suggested and asked if they could organize a family bike ride for us in your memory I am overwhelmed at how it all started and how it has evolved and how it has continued…   It is no secret that you are in my thoughts every minute of every day, Will. My days begin and end with you and on Saturday, June 14th it was evident that you were on the minds of many who were there to support and remember and celebrate your life cut short. I know you were looking down on all of us with your big Willy smile and bluer than blue eyes. Since your tragic passing, it has always been our hope that something good could be born of something so tragic. There is healing for us knowing that in your memory what began as the simple pleasure of a bike ride has grown and taken on an identity of its own. The Annual Ride For Will allows us through your Foundation to make a difference in the world and that just feels right and feels good.   Now as I bask in the afterglow of Saturday’s Ride For YOU my heart feels a little lighter and oh, so full. You, little Blue, are quite a boy.   Love you like a bus on a bike, (and only you could make sense of that!)     Momxo

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0 Comments

  1. Love this letter Joni and as always it brings a tear to my eye. Those first rides were certainly a proud right of passage for the boys. Looking forward to riding with you this summer. WILL will be with us, as always. Hugs to you!

    Reply

    1. Yes, he WILL be there with us. Helping to make sure I don’t fall off my bike and pushing me up the hills while he sits on my left shoulder where the boy angels sit. Giggling, of course.

      Reply

      1. This was a lovely letter. It made me smile. Now he knows what happened to the candy. In our house I would have eaten it…lol

        Reply

  2. I am loving your letters, always a tear and a smile. I have been leaving messages to someone but not you Will is laughing OK you’ve got it. Looking forward to your next letter. Lyn. XX.

    Reply

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