Hockey Sticks in Heaven

ByJoni Bouchard

April 10, 2018

My sweet boy,

I think it must be very busy up there. Since the news of the fatal team bus tragedy in Saskatchewan that took the lives of so many my heart has gone back to that dark and scary place in May 2011 when we experienced our own personal tragedy having lost you. There are no words for the magnitude of this loss and I am all consumed with thoughts of all those moms and dads and brothers and sisters and friends and extended family that are having to deal with the horrific loss of these innocent young men, their coaches and their bus driver. Of course, this event has triggered all of the intense feelings of those moments and days after losing you and my broken heart is with all of those parents who have joined the club no one ever chooses to join. Sadly, this club is just way too big.

Heaven has quite a hockey team and the 10 Humboldt Broncos that were called up this weekend is 10 more too many. I think that instead of your skis you might be wearing your hockey skates and have your hockey stick in hand. I imagine you’ve put fresh tape on your stick and created the best tape knob ever on the end. Tape… you always did like the tape… the usual black hockey stick tape (and the occasional coloured one) and the clear tape that would hold up your hockey socks (oh, and take paint off the walls when you used it to put up posters and tape mini sticks to your wall. Ya, that tape). There were rolls everywhere… on your dresser, the coffee table, in the car, in your hockey bag, at the back door, in the wagon on the front porch and occasionally in my purse. The growing tape ball in your hockey bag was pretty special. You know… the one that you would add to after every practice and game by peeling off the tape that held up your socks and adding it layer by layer to the ball of used tape. The last time I saw it, it was about the size of a small soccer ball… that was a lot of tape.

Ten cool boys have just arrived in heaven and I know you’ll find them, Will. Maybe you already have. They’ll be the boys in gold and green jerseys with Humboldt Broncos crests on the front and they’ll all be together. A team of boys who love hockey as much as you love skiing. Take them, Will, to the biggest and the best and the most beautiful hockey rink heaven could have. Show them around up there, and have some fun with them. Listen to their stories and show them where the boy angels sit on the left shoulders of their mom’s down here. Tell them how much their moms will like that. Show them how to let their loved ones know that they’re looking out for them and tell them how much they’ll be missed. Show them how to send signs to those down here who desperately need them and tell them to visit often. Laugh and play cards with them, Will, and break out the mini sticks too. When you’re tired and need a rest share high fives and fist bumps and tell them that they don’t need to do homework in heaven or ever have to go to the dentist.

Those beautiful boys known as The Humboldt Broncos…. the boys in the gold and green jerseys… will be missed so very much and loved forever and ever. Just like you.

Love you, Willy. Like a bus full of millions of hockey sticks. And tape. Oh, and don’t forget to leave your hockey stick out on your heavenly porch tonight. Your new hockey friends will love that.

Momxo

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  • Because We’re A Forever Thing

    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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  • Stung Again

    Will with Jamie and Lauren, at the precious age of 12
    Will at twelve, with Jamie and Lauren
    Friday, November 22, 2013 (2 ½ years) Hey Will, It’s late and I can’t sleep.  The clock on my bedside table marks the last few minutes of another 22nd day of the month and it stings like all the others.  I felt it when I woke this morning.  There was a sluggishness about getting out of bed, about having to go through the motions of this day; another day where it would take a little more effort to put one foot in front of the other. And so after a few minutes of staring out of the window at the sun just beginning to give light to the day I got up and dawdled to the shower. It’s always so easy to cry there; the tears run to the tips of my toes not just down my cheeks to be wiped away with a tissue or my sleeve. Today these tears were as necessary and natural as washing my face and brushing my teeth; tears that have become a routine part of the 22nd day of every month. When I pulled into the parking lot at school this morning I whispered your name and asked you to help me hold it together today and it worked, Will!  I worked through my day with a smile, but it did sting a little each time I saw the date written on a student’s paper, each time I saw it on a computer screen, each time I saw it written on the whiteboard in every classroom I walked into today, but I’ve come to expect it and so its a little easier when I know its going to sting instead of being taken aback or surprised. That feels more like a punch to the stomach and though that still happens from time to time it is a little less now.  Sadly, to me that can only mean that more time has passed and that I’ve gotten used to what it feels like to be punched in the stomach.  I was working with a grade seven boy who was celebrating his twelfth birthday today and that stung too.  Looking at him took me back to your grade seven year and to you being twelve and how it stopped there.  “Twelve” is yet another word that stings. The next 22nd day of the month will be 3 days before Christmas and that one will sting more; more like one of those punches to the stomach.  As Christmas approaches the tears will multiply and getting out bed will become more difficult. This I know now and there is no stopping the wave of sadness that lasts throughout the holiday season.  It’ll never be right, never be ok that you’re not physically here with us.  It just is what it is and sadly nothing can change it.  I do feel your presence with us spiritually but oh how I miss seeing you, touching you, smelling you. Thanks for helping me get through the day, Will.  And thanks for letting me know that you are with me on this new day, the 23rd day of November.  I woke this morning and the first thing I did before getting out of bed was reach for my iPad on the bedside table to re-read my letter. I opened the Songza app and the first song that played was “Mr. Blue Sky”.  I’ll take that as a sign that you are here with me and it made me smile.  It’s no secret that you are my little Mr. Blue Sky; you always will be. Love you like a bus, Momxo

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  • A Gold Dipped Yellow Leaf

    this one.jpg

    September 16, 2019

    Dear sweet Will,

    Today I watched the first yellow leaf fall from your tree. It reminded me of a tear as it fell to the ground and in those few seconds I did wipe a tear as it rolled down my cheek. Sometimes the unexpected can just get me like that. It was also a stark reminder of the passage of time… another season, another fall since you passed to the other side. I ponder how that can be possible when it feels both so long ago and like yesterday at the same time. That golden yellow leaf is also a reminder of the many signs of you that seem to be everywhere – all of them beautiful in their abundance and all of them I am ever grateful to be witness of. They are a daily reminder that you are indeed near and that you continue to watch over us. It really is possible in the moments of each passing day, week, month, season and year to see little signs of you in all kinds of places and in so many different ways. Little blue butterflies, heart shaped rocks, a snowflake, a brand new leaf, rainbows, tiny-fluffy- speckled feathers, a chattering squirrel or cawing crow and sometimes the magical, indescribable way Finn seems to look through me instead of at me. I know all of these are somehow you. I often reply to these abundant signs saying out loud, “Hey Willy, I see you, I hear you, I feel you.” I have had many conversations with these signs of you believing and hoping that you can see me, hear me and feel me, too.

    Friends

    The painful part is that I miss you as you were. So many things I miss… I miss watching you grow, seeing you run and jump. I miss hearing your giggle and the sound of your voice. I miss watching you make cinnamon toast in the morning and how you’d pour milk into your bowl of honey nut Cheerios. Frequently there’d be more milk on the counter than in your bowl but you insisted that you could do it and if I made a fuss about how that was wasteful you’d look at me and without saying a word you’d lick it right off the counter just to prove a point. I know I didn’t miss that back then but I’d give anything for a bowl of spilled milk now. I miss watching you swing your backpack over your shoulder and how sometimes it was so jam packed that you looked like a turtle carrying its shell. I long for the morning chaos that was part of every school day… how you’d rush to eat breakfast and brush your teeth before you’d stuff your backpack with all you needed for the day and then how you’d saunter out the door (and sometimes run like mad) to catch the bus to school. I miss our conversations about what mattered most to you on each given day. I miss watching how you loved being with your buddies and how much you loved pushing your brothers’ buttons and wrestling and cuddling with Dad. I miss your “Hi Mom” when I’d see you in the hallways at school and your public hugs when you just knew it meant more to me than to you. I miss watching you work so hard to get through your homework after school because every extra minute was golden when you were playing with your friends and / or jumping on the trampoline before dinner. I miss the way you would stall every bedtime routine and then how you’d look forward to our time to read together before bed. I miss hearing you say, “goodnight mom” and how you’d tell me you loved me like a bus. I miss our bedtime hugs and watching you as you slept when I’d enter your room one more time before it was my turn to crawl into my bed down the hall. I know these times were fleeting in the big picture but like every parent I always believed that these little nuances – these routines of everyday life – would morph into different age appropriate routines as you grew older. Never did I ever believe that it would end so tragically and so quickly. When I look back I am reminded of how fleeting it really was and how precious those moments really were. What a gift an ordinary day was back then and how lucky I am to be able to recall so many. I am especially grateful to have had that perspective. I will hold onto each and every one of them for all of my days on earth.

    And Will, when the next golden leaf flutters from your tree to the ground I will choose to look at it as you waving to me instead of feeling it as my tears. I will watch closely so I don’t miss it and as fall inevitably makes its grand entrance I will see you wave many, many times as the leaves from your thriving little tree cover the ground. Watch me, Will, as I will be waving back at you.

    I miss all of you, sweet boy, and I love you beyond words. Like a bus. A big, yellow bus full of beautiful gold dipped, yellow leaves.

    Momxo

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  • No One, No Thing, No RIVER Can Separate You From Me!

    Willy at Elbow Falls... on the Elbow River
    Willy at Elbow Falls… on the Elbow River
    Friday, June 28, 2013 (768 days) Dear Will, So much has happened since I last wrote to you, but that didn’t mean that you were not in my thoughts.  On the contrary actually, for through the tragedy of the flood that ravaged much of Bragg Creek and the rest of Southern Alberta, we miraculously dodged it.  For those days when we weren’t sure if the berm would hold and save our homes, it was you that consumed me, you that gave me hope, and most of all, you that sealed my belief that you really are looking out for us, and that it was you that kept our home and us safe. When we were served with the mandatory evacuation order last Thursday evening, the first thing I packed was you (your ashes), your favourite plaid shirt, and my macbook that holds all of our treausured photos. I couldn’t imagine leaving you behind with all the uncertainty that lie ahead.  As I watched others in our community anxiously trying to move things up from their basements to higher ground and listened to their stories and watched their stress levels climb, it was clear to me that what I left behind was just “stuff” and that I didn’t have the emotional energy to put into things that were replaceable.  Losing you has given me a different perception on life events and what is truly important.  It is the people that I love, that I cherish beyond anything else that matter the most.  What was most important was that I had you and that Dad and I and Ben were on our way to the Schneider’s home in Elbow Valley where the threat of the river was nil. I knew Justin was safe at his home in Calgary and what I drove away from last Thursday evening was just stuff. I have said it before – that what I know for sure is that nothing in my life going forward will ever be as difficult as losing you.  Of course, I felt a huge relief when we were given the go ahead to return to Redwood on Sunday and to see that things here were good.  We were lucky, Will; our home was dry and all of the reminders of you were still here; dry and intact.  Some of our friends and neighbors were not so lucky; wet basements and lots of work to remove wet carpets and drywall and “stuff”, negotiations with insurance companies and the inconvenience of cleaning and rebuilding and the stress that goes with that, but no loss of a loved one. We all have much to be grateful for in the aftermath of what happened in our part of the world last week.  Some lost their homes, their businesses, their financial security now in jeopardy, but all those that we know have each other and that is most important.   We are ever grateful, Will; to a God that heard our prayers, to ALL that worked tirelessly to repair and reinforce our berm when the river was relentless, to the miracle that kept our community safe and to YOU for keeping it all in perspective and keeping me sane. I love you more and more each day, little one.  So very much and like a bus. That’ll never change and no one or no thing or no river can ever take that away. Momxo

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  • It feels like May…

    Celebrating a beautiful life
    May 2, 2021

    My dear sweet boy,

    May is heavy. The heaviest of all the months for me. It is weighted with undeniable sadness, with silent tears, with the unendurable pain of losing you and with the loss of our own lives as we knew it almost 10 years ago. 10 years on May 22nd. Wait… sometimes it still feels like yesterday.  And yet in the deepest part of my heart I know you are still with us. I still see and hear you – though in different realms. And Willy, I continue to feel your presence every day because it is just impossible not to.

    Every May I place the book I compiled of your Celebration of Life on our coffee table in our living room and after re-reading every word over and over, year after year I think I almost have them memorized. To this day I am deeply grateful for the heartfelt messages and stories captured on that day and if I didn’t fully comprehend what a treasure it would be to be able to re-read them year after year I surely know now. As part of my lifelong healing, in those first few months I assembled every word spoken, every lyric sung and every memory shared into a book so that I would have it in one place, in something I could hold in my hands and revisit on a whim and, of course, every May.  I am ever grateful for the blessings and tributes written and shared by cherished friends and family and appreciate the support and the heartfelt love that we continue to receive even still.

    As I was re-reading “your book” this morning I wanted to share one of the tributes with you. I know you heard every word that John spoke at your celebration all those years ago but they made my heart smile this morning and they capture your essence in a way that was/is so “you”.

    Here’s John’s words…

    John Griffin Tribute

    THE LITTLE BIG MAN

    I have been asked to speak today on behalf of all the friends of the Bouchard family. Considering how many of us here today share a close friendship with Murray, Joni, Justin, Ben & Will, it is hard to know where to begin. I can safely say though that we all share memories of happy times, that will last forever. Much of what I can say speaks of our family’s countless memories that we have shared with such a wonderful family.

    Our family has known the Bouchard’s since they moved to Redwood Meadows in 1996, a couple of years before Will arrived. It seems as if we’ve known them forever. However, many of their friends here today share memories with Murray & Joni that go far beyond that.

    I know all of us are at a loss for words right now. How can you not be? But when you really take the time to celebrate Will’s life today, the countless memories we have are comforting, and even heart warming. I know that the Bouchard family would love nothing more than to know that we all focus our thoughts today on the memories of a playmate, a ski buddy, a classmate, a brother, and a son who made the world and the lives he touched a better place. Memories can never be taken away. Let me share a few.

    I’m not sure how many of you have done the “kid exchange” thing with another family, but it’s a great system….one couple gets away by themselves, while all the kids get to hang out in the same house together for a few days. And then you repeat the event a couple of months later. Everybody wins!! My wife Nancy & I shared this arrangement on many occasions with the Bouchards.

    I will never forget when Will stayed with us for a few days when he was just a little guy. He refused to wear anything but his Spiderman underwear. The problem was, Nancy & I didn’t know the rules of how he wore them, and it resulted in many tears for little Will. You see, he wanted the underwear on inside out, with the Spiderman picture pointing in so when he lifted out the waist band, he could look down and see Spiderman’s face. He was not a happy camper.

    It is so appropriate that Murray & Joni chose the name Will. Not only was it a great name, there were so many nicknames that could come as a result of it, “Willbilly” being one. As a little guy, Will was an explorer, hence the nickname “Willy the Wanderer”. Will decided one day when he was about 2, that he needed to go on a walkabout. After a frantic search by many, Will was found on the banks of the Elbow River by a dog and his walker.

    Many of us in Redwood Meadows remember the commotion during one of our local ball tournaments. “Willy the Wanderer” decided to climb into the family van which was parked by the ball diamond, with the keys in it, and proceeded to lock the door. I can’t quite remember how we eventually got him out, but I do know that the process lasted a couple of hours, and Will had spent every tear he had in him. On that day, he was known as “Free Willy”.

    You may think that Will was always an adventure seeking child, living life on the edge. Well, I would like to dispel that myth. Of the countless memories we have sharing happy times with the Bouchard family, at the top of the list are the houseboat trips we took together on Shuswap Lake over 3 consecutive summers, from 2002 through 2004. They were, without a doubt, the best of times.

    For the first 2 trips, when Will was 3 & 4, he did not let the waters of Shuswap Lake touch his feet. This had nothing to do with a dislike of water, but had everything to do with the creatures that lurked under the surface, otherwise known as fish. He spent most of his days in the hot tub, getting out occasionally to drop his drawers to his ankles and pee between the bars on the upper deck.

    Unfortunately for poor Will, there were a couple of incidents that didn’t help his courage. On one of our trips we decided to explore the recently discovered cave of the infamous “Bushman of the Shuswap”. Will of course did not join us on that venture, but just the thought of the Bushman ensured that he had nightmares for the rest of the trip.

    Just as he was beginning to overcome his fear of those fish creatures in the lake, didn’t the other kids happen to catch one. Will was actually quite fascinated by the sight of it, and stood by the counter as I prepared our catch for dinner. With his eyes at about level with the counter, I proceeded to chop the head off as Will stared in disbelief. I think it prolonged his fear of water for yet another year, and to this day he never ate fish.

    I’m sure anyone who has been on a houseboat trip has had some misadventures, and tales to tell. Over 3 trips, we certainly had many. But the one that tops them all is the time that Nancy & Murray actually lost the houseboat. Will, known as “Wilson” at the time, ended up stranded on a deserted beach with a few other castaways. Fortunately for “Wilson”, who then became “Willigan”, Joni & I executed a successful rescue & recovery of all involved, including the houseboat.

    The name that I will forever remember Will by though is the “Little Big Man”. It fit perfectly for Will. He was a smaller than average boy, growing up in a family with brothers 5 and 10 years older who he adored and looked up to. He tried so hard at times to be bigger than he was, and keep up with the older boys, and at times he pulled it off. Deep down though, he was a softie, who would gladly switch from being the “Little Big Man” to cuddling with his Mom. He was famous for his hugs and affection, and loved painting rocks with Joni.

    Our daughter Kathleen and Will shared a very close friendship, and never tired of each other’s company. They preferred not to call each other friends, but would rather be referred to as brother & sister. Kathleen would willingly take part in full on wrestling, while Will would gladly succumb to Kathleen’s world of imagination. As so-called siblings, they shared their fair share of disagreements. When Kathleen reached her limit, you commonly heard the “Will, Will” scream, followed by shouts of “What the Heck Kathaleen” in that distinctive Will voice.

    Many of Will’s summers began at Whispering Pines campground on Mara Lake with several families that are here today. I have seen many photos from these trips, and have heard many stories of those happy times. Some of his closest pals were part of those vacations, and they will miss the close friendship they shared with Will.

    And then there’s Fernie. The “big man” that Will looked up to more than anyone else was his Dad. Fortunately for Will, he had more opportunities to share in Murray’s passion for skiing than most get to experience in a lifetime. I know there are many here today that will find it hard to replace the companionship of their ski buddy. If you are one of those powder pals of Will’s, and you look ahead to the ski seasons yet to come, remember to take some time on an epic Fernie day, and think of Will. Take him down that run with you, and give him the ride of his life. He will be smiling with you all the way.

    Murray, Joni, Justin & Ben. On behalf of all of your friends, we are heartbroken, and can’t imagine how difficult this must be for all of you. There are so few words that we can say that can help make sense of this. I truly believe that Will’s spirit lives on. You have provided him with a wonderful life in a loving home and raised him in an incredible community. I do believe he is still smiling that sweet smile, still laughing, and spending his days in a paradise that is beyond the one that he shared with us. Forever young.

    We all want to thank you, Murray & Joni, for accepting our love and support. Your community of friends has been drawn together through a love for Will. You need to know that we will continue to be there for you in the days, and years ahead. You have so many dear friends that want to help you on your journey, and I know you know that. I can think of so many times when it was you reaching out to help others. Now it’s our turn to reach out to help you.

    Oh, how special you are, my sweet boy. No wonder I miss you so much. I hope you never underestimate how “big” your life was to us down here.  Please continue to shine your little, big light down on those of us who continue to celebrate every day of the 12 1/2 years we had with you.

    I love you beyond words, WillBilly. Like that big bus we always spoke of. And then some more.

    Momxo


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  • Love Bursts

    Love burst
    A love burst memory of a ski day in Fernie

    December 31, 2016

    Dear Will,

    Well, sweet One, December has been quite a month. For me (your Type A Mom!) it was a month that will go down in the books as one that reminded me that even with all of the best intentions sometimes plans can go sideways and coming up with a Plan B can be good, too. I will also remember this December as one that beckoned even more strength than usual. With the holiday season our broken hearts seem more broken than ever and I realize that the jagged edges of losing you have not smoothed over time. Some things are just not possible and not having you in our earthly world will always be the most painful thing to endure. No matter the day, the month or the year.

    In mid December your biggest brother became ill and we learned that his appendix had unfortunately burst. With that came an emergency surgery followed by 11 days in hospital. Not only did he spend his 28th birthday in hospital but as Christmas Day approached there was the probability that he would have to remain in hospital due to the serious abdominal infection he was fighting. It was an easy decision to accept that we’d forego Christmas in Fernie as Christmas without Justin was never an option.

    My favourite gingerbread boy. The one you made.
    My favourite gingerbread boy. The one you made.

    So Plan B ensued and Dad dug out the tiny artificial tree from the basement and brought up the box of Christmas decorations that I opened only once since losing you. That box held all of the special handmade ornaments that you boys made in kindergarten and elementary school – those special Christmases when magic pumped through your veins and through our house right down to bells on boots and zipper pulls, special Santa pillowcases and advent calendars and boxes and cups of hot chocolate stuffed with marshmallows while reading Christmas books in our jammies. The first Christmas without you I’d pulled out only a few to take with us to Fernie where, out of mere survival and the need to have certain special things in our midst, we began a new tradition. Our new Willy Christmases are all about you. Your Santa hat or toque has replaced the angel figure that used to grace the top of our tree and we adorn the tree branches with all of our family ski passes over the years. Each year I have added sparkly snowflakes of all colors and sizes, fuzzy snowballs and the glitteriest things I could find. All the while I’d not forgotten that at home was that very special box of Christmas treasures and one that I knew one day when I was ready I’d open again and cherish more than I had ever before. Well, that day did come and though I might not have been ready it seemed the right thing to put on our little tree. And so I did. And it was beautiful, Will.

    As each day brought us closer to Christmas we continued to pray that Justin would be well enough to come home and each day we’d hear again the “not today” news. We decided that if Justin couldn’t come to us, we’d take Christmas to him. With a heavy heart on Christmas morning I went upstairs to bathe and dress so we could go to the hospital and when I came down the stairs what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Justin and Amy sitting on the couch in our living room in front of our little tree. There were only two things I could do, Will. One was to cry and the other was to hold on to the stair railing so I wouldn’t fall. For the rest of my life I will always remember that moment of surprise and how my heart burst. Oh, how I love a love burst! We had a wonderful day complete with Christmas dinner and though Justin needed to return to hospital that evening we knew that if they’d allowed him a day pass that a hospital discharge was not far away. Our wish came true the next day.

    As I look back now this last day of 2016 I think about the love bursts of the year and am refilling my heart with the happy moments that will help sustain me as I flip the calendar to a new year and another painful reminder of the passage of time. I think about all of the signs you continue to send our way — the magical rainbows, the sunspots and the beautiful sparkly snowflakes that can only be you. I think about another successful Ride For Will and how your legacy just keeps on keepin’ on. I think about Justin marrying his Amy and the girl that we are delighted to have as part of our family. I think about Ben and the love for the outdoors that is his passion and the exhilaration and anticipation that comes with completing his last year of university. I think of Dad and how we continue to hold each other in happy times and how we find comfort in each other’s arms when the world is too much to bear. I think of Finn and how much joy he brings to our home and I swear that lurking behind his knowing eyes are your eyes and a place I often look to for love bursts. For all of these moments I am grateful and when I wake tomorrow to 2017 I will continue to fill my heart with all of these moments while I search for and cultivate more.

    I love you, Sweet Will. Like a bus full of love bursts and sparkles and glittery things and all the things that I cherish most in my life… you, your brothers, your Dad and our big, brown dog.

    Momxo

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0 Comments

  2. Joanie thank you so much for your loving careing blog you have personally echoed what everyone is trying to say and adding your own personal thoughts thank you for that

    Reply

    1. Thank you for your kind words, Jim. My heart is extra heavy these days. The news of that horrific bus accident threw me back into a very sad place. I hope that through my words my picture of heaven can help others believe that it is as real as I believe and hope it to be.

      Reply

  3. Joni I’m beside myself on your letter. You have spoken for so many mothers who have unfortunately gone through a similar experience. But in the end you offer a small bright light that will only grow. Thank you.

    Reply

    1. Thank you for your kind message, Eppo. This horrific event and the loss of all those boys triggered moments for me that I didn’t think I would ever overcome when I lost my son. Without “hope” I wouldn’t be here. It is everything. If I can be “a small, bright light” for anyone who is summoned to join this club then I have done what my son, Will, would want me to do. Your kindness gives me hope and a reason to keep on sharing. Thank you, Eppo.

      Reply

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