We’re having fish for dinner tonight and oh, how you disliked fish. Remember how you’d complain how much we have it? Weekly, for sure, and on that day you’d hope for a dinner invite at a friend’s home so you didn’t have to even look at it. I’d never let up on getting you to “just try it”, and even on those rare occasions when you’d succumb to my relentless requests and put an almost microscopic piece to your lips, you’d confirm that you didn’t like it. And so, as I took the fish out of the freezer this morning, it was you I thought of. Dinner time not the same without you… an empty chair, an empty spot at the table… and even when you were down the street at a friends for dinner when we had fish, you’d still burst through the front door after dinner glad that you’d dodged the fish dinner but glad to be home to spend the evening with us. The dinner and night time routines that we established at home are much lonelier and quieter without you; unbearable at times.
Wish you were here or down the street,
Momxo
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May 18, 2015
Dear Will,
While walking Finn down by the river this afternoon I noticed the little, blue butterflies were visiting again. I’ve missed seeing these little beauties, as these were the first I’ve seen since last summer. First there was one, then two… then three, all fluttering about in the sunshine, stopping here and there, up and down and all around — going nowhere it seemed, or certainly not in a hurry if they were. I smiled wondering if they were you… and in the same breath, of course, they were you. I slowed my pace and began to talk to them, extending my hand and then stopping to just take it all in. I asked them, “is that you, Willy? Is it you? Is it?” They continued to flutter about always coming back to where I could almost reach out and touch them. They stayed close, stopping and starting in unison as if I was leading some sort of dance.
For quite some time I was oblivious to anything else. Their delicate, little, blue wings so perfect and the way they’d stop and rest on a dandelion or a leaf or a blade of grass while their little wings moved as if that is how they breathed. Little ins and little outs. And then off they’d go, their wings moving so effortlessly and so quietly amongst us.
I needed to see those little, blue butterflies today, Will. A sign from you that you are here, that you see us and hear us and love us still. These past few days have weighed heavily on my heart and to see the weightlessness of love in the wings of a little blue butterfly instantly picked me up. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how fragile I was feeling today. For a few days, I didn’t want to open my eyes and instead closed them tight for fear that the river of tears inside of me would spill. I’d been walking with my head down instead of up, not seeing the beauty in little things…until I saw the little, blue butterflies this afternoon.
For the rest of my walk I longed to touch you, to see your face, to hear your voice and in the quiet of my afternoon walk I did try, but the only sight and sound was in my memory. I sighed. But I will never give up on my belief that you are here. Just a blink away. Somewhere over the rainbow. On the other side of the veil. I’ll be out again tomorrow Will, on the same river path as today. And I’ll look for you again… because those little, blue butterflies get me every time.
Love you, little blue. Like a bus full of those little flutterbies.
Momxo
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December 23, 2014
Dear Will,
Will’s Santa Hat is our angel on the top of our tree
I have been thinking about you more than usual if that is even possible. This time of year so happy for others is not so happy for me. The memories of Christmases past flood my conscience and at times I feel that I am not even here, but with you instead. Yesterday, a “22” day was especially hard though today doesn’t feel much different. Dad and I and Finn are in Fernie now, awaiting the arrival of your big brothers later this afternoon. I am looking forward to having them here, as the four of us together for Christmas is all that really matters. I’ve put up the tree and decorated it just so – you are all over it as usual and your brothers too (and, well, Dad and I too in the form of our Fernie family ski passes). Your Santa hat is our angel on the top of the tree, the one that you took a sharpie to in grade 3 and wrote your name in large letters so that no one would take it. I love how you printed your name… there really was no difference from when you were a tiny tot to when you were last with us as your name is really just a simple series of sticks when you think about it. So much easier than when Justin and Ben were small and had to learn to maneuver their pencil to form curves. I guess by the third child I’d figured out that there wasn’t a simpler name to print than yours. It is all a non issue other than when you boys were learning to print your name and well, you, little blue, had it the easiest. Our tree is also adorned with some of the ornaments that you made at school that I couldn’t leave in the Christmas box. The paper cut out snowflake that you made and glued to a CD, and the brown felt gingerbread boy that you sewed and stuffed all on your own when you were in grade 2. There’s also a wooden sign that you painted and strung with a very long piece of metallic thread. I love these little masterpieces even more now than when you brought them home all those years ago. They are priceless memories of Christmases that seem now so perfect because all five of us were together.
I have already told you how we’ve adopted some new family traditions since your passing and they are simple and beautiful. Our stocking exchange has become a family highlight and the greenery and baubles that lay so peacefully on your stocking Christmas morning and then grace our Christmas table hugging the snowy white candle that we light in your memory seems so perfect. We look forward to and love the last present under the tree, a neatly wrapped box from you to us that is always a family jigsaw puzzle that keeps us busy on the days and weeks following Christmas. These have become important pieces of Christmas that have allowed us to celebrate in your memory and in a way that I believe you would embrace wholeheartedly. You will always be a part of our Christmases, Willy, just as you are a part of our every day.
Tonight or tomorrow morning I will ice the gingerbread boys. It’s the same recipe that I used to make when you were little but the boys are smaller now. I found a small gingerbread boy cookie cutter and in each little tin or box I enclose a little note that says, “Before they can be men, they must be boys”. I came upon these wise words two years ago and now they seem so apropos to include. Again, they make me think of you.
I miss you, Will. So very much still and I now that I always will. As I sit and stare out of my big Fernie window at the incredible view of “your” ski hill I am reminded that if you were here you’d be up there skiing now. You’d have begun the day with your Dad and I imagine now you’d be hucking flips rippin’ it up with Josh and Calvin.
This season isn’t the happiest time of the year for me… or for anyone that has lost someone so loved. I try to smile and though for you I do, it isn’t without a tear too.
Happy Christmas up there, Will. I know you’re with us, watching me now as I wipe a tear, and find a smile. Rip it up on the ski hill for Dad and your brothers. And then join us here on Christmas morning and watch us laugh and remember and love you forever.
Love you like a bus full of Christmas lights and turkey,
Momxo
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Almost a teenager…
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Happy Birthday, my sweet boy,
This week began with a throwback to a sunny afternoon 20 years ago when I welcomed you into my arms and you officially became a member of our little family. It was and will always be one of the very best days of my life. It’s terribly sad for me to think that today you would be 20 years old and even more sad that I had only 12 birthdays to plan and celebrate with you here. You have to know, however, that we’ve never missed a year celebrating your birthday, Willy. Ribs, an angel food cake and cinnamon buns were your favourite and so we continue with the same birthday menu year after year after year.
bd balloons mur
bd balloons
I’ve been thinking all week about your birthday and how we were robbed of so much when you passed. A boy who never got to be 13. A boy who never got to be a teenager. A boy turned man who would now be 20. Eight birthdays where instead of lighting candles on your cake for you to make a wish and blow out we instead light a white pillar candle that sits in the middle of our dinner table. This candle lights our way so to speak and we don’t put it out until well after our dinner for you. Instead we make our own wish and I’m pretty sure that we all make the same one — a collective, “I wish you were here.”
Today I will put all my energy into celebrating one of my happiest of days. I will remember your welcome into the world and the 12 short, but full to the brim, years we shared. I will remember your sticky fingers while eating your birthday ribs and I’ll smile at how you used to squish/press/roll your slice of angel food cake into a small ball of doughy goodness. I will remember how at age 10 you learned how to make the gooey-ist bread-maker cinnamon buns in our family. I will remember your smile and your laugh and how much you loved being with us. And I will remember how much we loved celebrating you and how much we miss you. We will never stop celebrating you, Will. You will always be a part of us and every October 14 will always be a special day.
Love you, sweet one. Bigger than a bus full of birthday ribs and angel food cake squished into a million tiny cake balls and more than a Willy batch of the best cinnamon buns in the land.
Momxo
Will and his friend, Cole, who celebrated birthdays together because they were only 2 days apart.
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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.
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Though fall is my favourite time of the year, this year the month of October is like a camel with too many humps — four to be exact. First was our bike ride into Bragg Creek for icecream (our little Ride For Will), then came Thanksgiving, followed by your birthday, and in a couple of weeks, Halloween.
The two biggest humps were the ones in the middle – Thanksgiving weekend and then your birthday. These two always feel a bit like climbing a mountain (clarification… what I think it would feel like). There is a looming feeling in the days leading up to them and I feel a little more anxious as each of them draws closer. The most difficult part of those days is getting out of bed. I lay still and remember what it was like when you were here and wish with all of my being that you still were. I think about all the things we’ve missed out on, the stuff we didn’t get to do. I wonder what you’d look like and what your voice would sound like. I sit with these thoughts for a while and inevitably succumb to my tears whilst giving myself permission to feel sad and then with my head down and a tear-stained face I get up and I get going. It’s not always pretty and its not easy but I forge on finding ways to honour you throughout these days . Then, at the end of each of these difficult days, I sigh, still surprised that I make it through year after year after year. Somehow I do. And somehow in these days I find a smile, I find joy and I find gratitude. On October 14th, 1998 (this year your nineteenth journey around the sun) we were blessed to bring you into this world and call you our son. This day will forever be one of my life’s best and though now one of the saddest it will always be a bittersweet celebration. .
The next hump is Halloween and for me I am happy to report that this hump is growing smaller. Oh boy, I think back to how much you loved Halloween (aka “I love candy” day) and how much you disliked visiting the dentist. You never really understood how bad those tootsie rolls were on your teeth… or maybe you did and they were just too good to give up? I have to come clean, Willy, I still love them, too. (Insert a wink).
Enjoying icecream after our little Ride For Will (Oct 8/17)
For a long time I didn’t think I’d ever smile again; hearing myself laugh or feel joy seemed an impossibility. In the months after losing you, I couldn’t find the strength to leave our home. And now, here I am. I can do this. What got me here? Why can I do it now? Well, I do know the answer now. There are two actually. One is time. And the other is you. With time comes clarity and reflection and with clarity and reflection comes the question I ask more than any other, “What would Will want me to do?” Not a day goes by that I don’t ask myself that very question at least once. You, sweet one, are my reason and my strength for everything. Oh, and there’s these two other boys, too… the other two that call me Mom. And Dad. And our big, brown dog. I am surrounded with boy love! And I am grateful for all of you.
The boy love in my world is big, Will. And I love you more than all the boy love put together on a four humped camel with a big bus full of tootsie rolls on the side. You see, it’s not even possible to love someone more than that. But I do…. times a million.
Miss you, Little Blue.
Momxo
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There’s this photo I have. And it might be the most powerful photo I own…
I walked into a store on main street in Fernie on a summer day in 2011…. only weeks after losing you and to this day I’m not sure if I laid eyes on it first or if it laid eyes on me. It was another of those profound moments that are crystal clear in my mind and the feelings it brought forth were and still are eerily beautiful. I remember being drawn to it the moment I walked through the doors because this boy looked like you. Just. Like. You. I picked it up and in the quiet stillness that surrounded me I heard these words — “peek-a-boo, Mom”. I knew that I could not leave the store without it.
Those few weeks after losing you were numbing, confusing, foggy, terribly painful and raw with emotion. I spent all of my waking moments searching for answers, for meaning, for ways to survive, for something to believe in, for a God that would promise to take me to you at the end of my days here and that for eternity nothing could tear us apart. On that day, seeing that photo, it felt like I had the answer I wanted so desperately. You see it, too, don’t you, Will?
It’s as if this photo was taken from inside of me; from deep within my soul. This is what I see when I open my eyes. I see you as if you are super imposed into/onto everything that is real. It is yet another reminder that the veil is thin. And I like it that way. Peek-a-boo back at you, Willy. I see you.
Love you like a bus, Will… with peek-a-boo windows from my soul.
Momxo
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