Hanging In Heaven With Your Papa

ByJoni Bouchard

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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  • 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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  • October Days and Little Boy Arms

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    Little Boy Arms
    October 6, 2013 Dear Willy, Well, here it is again.  October; your birth month and one of the most difficult for me. No month is easy by any means, but October conjures up so many memories of you.  For most of your much-too-short life as soon as I turned the calendar to October the conversations would begin… “Mom, my birthday is in 14 days!”  And in the next breath, “can we plan my birthday party?  How many friends can I invite?  Can they all sleepover?  Ok. Well, can some sleepover?”  Today, remembering these conversations that would begin at the beginning of October every year now make me cry. I think back to that very special day in October 1998; to the 14th day of the month when you made your debut into this world.  You, my youngest son, were pure joy from the moment Dad and I found out that we were blessed with another son.  An easy pregnancy, an easy delivery (easy to say now!?), and such a happy and beautiful baby boy with your blonde curly hair and blue eyes. It was one of the happiest days in my life, for sure.  Having you felt like everyone in my world was now here and that my kitchen table was supposed to have five people occupy the chairs that were tucked in around it.  For the first time, I could honestly say that it felt like my family was complete. I took much pride, and still do, in being a mother to three boys. Little Nan, (papa’s mom and my grandmother) was also a mother of three boys and I always thought it was so special.  And now I, too, was a proud mama bear to three cubs.  One of the things I loved the most about all three of you, was the feel of your little boy arms around my neck and even at 12 ½ your arms, the smallest of the three of you, gave me such comfort. Right up until your angel date, I loved the tuck-me-in goodnight hugs we still shared regularly.  I don’t ever want to forget those hugs, Will, for there is just nothing quite like them. Remembering the joy you brought to all of us on the day you were born and the happiness that you brought to our lives as you grew now feels so empty and when October comes around it is especially heartbreaking. It is like you were stolen from me and I am left now with only memories of you as a boy on the cusp of becoming a teenager and a time you were looking forward to so very much.  Watching your two older brothers navigate through the teenage years gave you insight into the freedoms and privileges that were coming your way; learning to drive, girls, girls, girls, summer jobs and spending money of your own, later curfews and later bedtimes.  You certainly didn’t choose to see the “not so fun” parts like more homework, negotiations with Dad and I that wouldn’t always go as you’d hoped, losing privileges, being grounded, etc.  It was just like you to find the fun parts wherever you were. So, as I watch each of these October days come and go and as your birthday approaches I must continue to find the strength to carry on somehow. I know there will be days when grace will be lost; days where it will take all I have to just get out of bed. And then to my amazement there will be days, too, that I will somehow find a smile, feel you with me, and that I will celebrate having had you for as long as I did, even though it was much, much too short. There is not a day, Will, that I wish the outcome would have been different and that you were here with us saying, “Mom, my birthday is in 14 days!  Can we plan…” I believe it is you giving us these warm and sunny fall days and I am grateful.  I imagine it is your way of giving me those little boy hugs I miss so very much.  Beautiful October days… and little boy arms.  Thank you, Will. I miss you to the moon and love you like a bus. Momxo

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  • The Lovers, The Dreamers, and Me

    March 10, 2018 Hey Willy, The other day as I was driving home a song that I hadn’t heard in quite some time played on the radio and in those three or so minutes it was ALL about you. It always amazes me how you can hear a song from a long time ago, even your childhood, and somehow, seemingly out of nowhere, you remember all the words. The song was Rainbow Connection (the Kenny Loggins version) and I can say with certainty that I am a lover and a dreamer for sure. As soon as I heard the banjo in the intro I was surprised at how many of the lyrics I could recall from memory. The power of music is really quite something.
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    What was perhaps most beautiful was that I was transformed to a place where it was you and me and nothing else and every word of that song was so clear and believable; it moved me like it never had before. This version was not the original Kermit the Frog version but I sure do remember his skinny, little, green self sitting in the swamp singing out his little lungs in the Muppet Movie. Crazy little green frog with a larger than life personality…. hmmm… sounds a bit like you… I’ve always believed in the magic of rainbows and as a little girl I would make secret wishes and dream of finding the pot of gold at the end every time I saw one. Though I’ve outgrown the pot of gold idea what makes me love them still is the possibility that you are there. And I believe you are. The rainbow connection is alive and well in my little corner of Kermit’s swamp and I wonder, Will, if it’s as clear for you looking at us through those colourful prisms of light. I love the rainbow coloured glasses that Mother Nature gives us so we can catch a glimpse of what awaits on the other side. So, why days later am I writing to you about rainbows? Well, because I’m still humming that song. It’s stuck in my head and speaking to my heart. I think I won’t forget it ever. Sweet boy, I miss you more than any dreamer could dream. And I love you more than a bus parked at the end of a million double rainbows. The lovers, the dreamers, and me could only ever get how much that really is. Momxo

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  • So… I Did a Thing!

    Friday, June 26, 2026

    Hey Willy,

    After many gentle nudges over the years I jumped off the literary cliff and published our story in a memoir! It’s a culled collection of my letters to you that recounts our mom-son moments and memories, all the ways you relentlessly showed up for me, and how we continue our relationship still. Those early days, weeks, months and even those first two or three years after losing you were heartbreaking—it was impossible to sugar-coat how difficult that was but as I wrote all those letters to you something beautiful and hopeful emerged. Out of fierce mother-son love and a desperate need for a connection with you I found a way to survive and, little by little, grace and joy followed. 

    It is fittingly entitled LOVE YOU LIKE A BUS: Letters to Will and chronicles my journey through debilitating loss to finding joy and purpose again. I did not know how to do life after losing you… I only knew that I could never stop writing to you because it was the only way I knew how to keep you present in my thoughts. I was never ready to say good-bye… I just couldn’t, wouldn’t, and still can’t and won’t.

    Over the years I have questioned and searched and toiled over what my life purpose is. Over and over I have wondered what I am supposed to learn and accomplish in my time here on earth. Occasionally, I wished I could just succumb and be with you, but I knew that could never happen because I needed and wanted to be Ben and Justin’s mom, too. They say it is impossible to be in two places at one time… but they are wrong, Will, because you and I have found a way. 

    In many quiet moments I asked you all the questions I struggled for answers to—the “Why did you have to go?” and “When will I see you again” and “How will I survive in this world without you in it?” Your message has been steadfast. “Mom, you are a helper and a messenger and your purpose is clear. You can help others understand the pain of losing someone they cannot live without by sharing our story. We know that the distance between heaven and earth is only a heartbeat and that wherever you are, I am right there with you.”

    All your whispers and encouragement from friends and family over the years have suggested that sharing my journey might help others through their own grief and also provide them with a wonderful perspective about life and the parts of it they can and cannot control. The reminder that life is fleeting and fragile is one that bears repeating. Living and loving without regret and choosing to see and celebrate all the little things along the way matter—and when you lose someone you love they, ultimately, are what matters most. Collectively, all those gentle nudges were getting stronger to ignore and so, Willy… I did it! I published our story.

    In early fall I will officially launch LOVE YOU LIKE A BUS: Letters to Will. I will proudly stand with you on my left shoulder where the boy angels sit, and we will put it out to the world, Willy. Until then let’s quietly celebrate. I promise I will share more details come September. 

    I miss you, my sweet boy, but I see you and I hear you. And… I love you like a bus wrapped up inside the sky-blue book covers of a mom-son love story about us. 

    Momxo

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  • A Special Boy and His Special Dog

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    Wednesday, May 15, 2024

    Dear Will,

    In an already heartbreaking month for us, yesterday was a heartbreaking day.

    Out of nowhere, Finn’s health had been rapidly declining over the last few weeks and after a handful of visits to the vet clinic, late last week, we learned that our vet believed he had brain cancer. Through collaboration with the other vets at the clinic, they pieced together his rapidly changing symptoms and everything pointed to a tumour in his brain that was causing a domino effect of pain and complications. She told us he would not get better and that his condition was degenerative. What she couldn’t tell us was how much time he had left. In the most compassionate way, she prepared us for what was to come and we decided that keeping him comfortable while giving him all the love we could, was paramount and what we wanted.

    On Monday, Finn began trembling and had fallen a couple of times. That night, while pawing my knee and wanting my hand, he stood before me and stared at me through his tired and ailing eyes. He wouldn’t take his gaze off my own eyes, supplicating my full attention… literally, it was like he bore a hole through my soul and, honest to God, Will, in that moment he asked me to help him go to you. He conveyed that it was his time and his message could not have been more clear. And, he did the very same to Dad. Already missing him, I could not stop crying.

    That night, Dad and I made the heart-wrenching decision that it was time to say goodbye to our best dog friend. With the help of our amazing vet, Finn crossed the rainbow bridge and into your arms yesterday afternoon. Through uncontrollable tears, and the biggest bittersweet moment, I imagined you finding each other and how happy you both were. Finn gets to be with you now and you get the best dog you could have ever asked for. He will give you love beyond what you could imagine, Willy. I have read that dogs only live as long as they do because of how much love they give and that if we, as human beings, had the same capacity to love, we’d only live as long as a dog.

    There is no question that he loved us unconditionally and in return, we loved him right back. He was the perfect dog for us and he came to us at the perfect time. I would even go so far as to say that after losing you, he saved us. He anchored and held us in our loss and through our grief. Suffice it to say, I will always miss my anchor and my best dog friend.

    Nothing was easy about yesterday. The only good thing was that after twelve and a bit years, you got Finn and he got you. Endless sticks and balls and walks with you and endless treats from Pa. No pain, perfect eyesight, no cancer. Just immense love between a special boy and his special dog.

    Enjoy your new best friend, Willy, and as I sit in a puddle of tears, know that I am happy for you and for our Finn and that one day we will all be together again.

    I love you, and Finn, like a bus and more than all the love he shared with us. And, there’s more, Willy. That love is also bigger than a bus and more than all the love shared between a special boy and his special big, brown dog.

    Momxo xo

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  • Can Boys Really Be Super Heroes?

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    August 22, 2017

    Hey Will,

    I cannot stop thinking about a conversation I had a couple of weeks ago with an 8 year old boy in Fernie. This boy, the youngest child of friends of ours, and whose older siblings you would remember, is an unforgettable kid. Like you, his eyes were full of wonder and at his young age he is already quite an athlete. Also like you, he has two older siblings whom he idolizes and it feels like he might be on that same mission you were on to out-do, out-wit, and out-shine them whenever you thought you had a chance. You must remember, Willy, that this didn’t always work in your favour… sometimes the pecking order did rule. Me saying, “be patient, little man” over and over seemed to feed your little fire!

    It was a beautiful, warm evening and we were at a fundraiser for Avalanche Canada up at the Resort. While chit-chatting with this boy’s mom I think he must have overheard us talking about you. He came over – a wee bit shy at first – and whilst climbing all over the chair and the railing and whatever else he could grasp onto while balancing on one leg he was at the same time hanging onto our words. His mom asked him to tell me what the name of his favourite ski run is and without hesitation he said, “Wills Run”. I looked into his full-of-life eyes and told him that you were my son; that I was the mom of the boy who Will’s Run was named after. He looked at me like you were some kind of super hero. He already knew much about you, Will, and he lit up when I told him that he reminded me of you. We talked about freestyle skiing and how the naming of your run came about. He listened with such intent, never interrupting, like he was hungry to hear more. So, of course, I told him a story or two or ten. Then he asked, “Would Will like me?” I felt my heart skip a couple of beats — his question full of so much feeling and a question that caught me off guard. I took his little hands into my own and told him that you’d have loved everything about him. He was so happy to know this. His Mom told me that he’d asked her the same question earlier in the day. It goes to show that acceptance is a huge thing no matter how old we are. And it also goes to show that no matter how old we are we seek out those who make us feel good in this world. This 8 year old boy made my day special because of what you mean to him. It was such a cool conversation we shared and I am so grateful to have had it.

    That night was yet another time where I wondered to myself then and over and over these last couple of weeks if you really get how big you are, Will. For a 12 year old boy with a slight build and big feet you seem to have this super hero aura. And I think to myself that if you can be that kind of example to another boy then I am the proudest mom in the land. I am over the moon proud of who you were and what you stood for. I am proud of how you brought out the best in people, young and old alike. The goodness you held in your heart and the kindness you showed to others was beautiful. And guess what? Perhaps the most astonishing thing of all is that you continue to do so still…even from the other side.

    My heart grew that day because that boy reminded me of you. I am glad that he knows your legacy and that he asked the questions that many are afraid to ask. And I hope that because he knows that you’d have liked him he’ll enjoy his turns down your run more than he did before. You’re quite something, Will. Something bigger than life in this little mountain town.

    I love you, little big man. Bigger than a little big bus in a little ski town in the big mountains.

    Momxo

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