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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  • Still…

    Heart Rock

    May 14, 2022

    Dear Will,

    It’s May. Again. The month I shy away from, still. Dread, still. The month that is hard to write down, still. The month that conjures up deep pain, still. And, the month that measures time like no other. I pinch myself wondering how one week short of 11 years can still feel like yesterday and forever, still.

    The still part feels like I’m stuck. And maybe that is what I have let May become for me? As I ponder and dread and feel all these things that seem to define the month of May, maybe being stuck doesn’t have to be a bad thing? Maybe being stuck or “still” allows me to sit with you a little longer, to honour and remember you with more intention than usual. Though sadness still creeps in, because that is, after all, the price we pay when we lose a loved one, it can also be a time to be stuck in the deep love part of loss. And, maybe, just maybe that is the gift, the silver-lining so to speak. To be stuck on you is not a bad thing at all!

    In the beginning of my grief journey I would never ever, ever have believed that gratitude and loss could live in the same sentence, in the same breath. But, Willy, I do believe that it is possible sometimes. It is not possible to be grateful that you died, but it surely is possible to be grateful that you lived. It was too short, way too short, but it was better than no life with you at all. 

    Of course, I wish things were different. Oh, what I’d give for a re-do of that tragic day. The shoulda, coulda, woulda’s still seep into my thoughts from time to time but I know that I have to push them aside as it is unproductive and impossible to change the events of May 22, 2011. It is nothing short of torture to dwell there, and besides, if there was a way, believe me, I’d have found it. 

    Instead I will sit in the still of May and celebrate being stuck in the love part of losing you. Not just for May, but for every day, every month, every year, still. 

    img 2714
    img 2714

    I miss you, my sweet boy. Still.

    And I love you. Still. Like a big ‘ole bus stuck in love. By the grace of God, that love bus is plenty big for both of us. Still.

    Momxo


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  • The Little Blue Ball and You

    The little blue ball on the hard to reach ledge
    The little blue ball on the hard to reach ledge
    February 2, 2014 Good morning, my little star, Each day as I make my way down the stairs to the main floor of our home (more times than not with dirty laundry in my arms) I am taken aback by the little blue ball that still sits way up high on the second story above the front door on the ledge under our front feature window.  How did it get there?  Well, I know that YOU know and I know that it wasn’t deliberately “placed” there as you can only reach that narrow ledge with an extendable ladder.  It “ended up” there as a result of a bad shot in the mini sticks hockey shoot-out that occurred regularly (sometimes, daily) on the landing at the top of the staircase to the second story of our house.  The place where the space opens up to a high ceiling, few walls, and a white wooden railing that was the only stopper to that little blue ball ending up downstairs on the floor… or, less likely, on the ledge above the door where it still sits.  I remember the countless times I asked that you boys take the game downstairs where it didn’t matter where or how the ball was hit; downstairs where I could close the door to the basement so I didn’t have to hear the play by play of each shot and the thunk, thunk, thunk, of feet running up and down the stairs to retrieve that little blue ball. What I hear in my head now when I see that ball and what I remember more than anything else is the sound of boys giggling with delight at the simple fun of hitting a little blue ball (a ball soft enough that it couldn’t possibly damage anything) with little hockey sticks.  It’s quite remarkable how things that used to drive me crazy back then speak to me in such a different way now.  How I long for those days where listening to you and your friends, or you and your brothers, just simply laugh because you were having fun.  Its true that in between the laughter there were negotiations and arguments on fair play and sometimes stoppage of play because one of you would get hit with the stick and have to rub your hands together while jumping up and down to shake off the pain.  I also remember the same repeated question I’d get when I asked you to move the game downstairs… “awe, Mom.  Why?  We’re not wrecking anything and its “funner” here.  The shots are more fun when they can go further.”  When I’d respond with a more serious and stern voice that what I needed (wanted) was silence, then and only then, was there compliance.
    the little blue ball
    the little blue ball
    Seeing that little blue ball now conjures up a different feeling.  And with it the yearning that if only I could have those days back, relive those precious moments where the sound of boys laughing and giggling was what really mattered, I’d take them back in a heartbeat.  I have no desire to retrieve that little ball from where it now sits because it is a reminder of you and that makes me smile.  It took a long time before my tears turned into smiles upon seeing that little ball but somehow even through the tears I knew that I didn’t want to take it down, that in time it would become another sacred memory of you.  And now that’s what it is. From time to time  (ok, once) I had to maneuver the long, awkward (and scary) extendible ladder into the house and get my butt up there to dust that ledge.  That was a while ago and I’ll need to do it again soon, as the dust seemingly multiplies faster in the places where you can’t reach easily.  Once up there I put the little blue ball in the pocket of my sweatshirt while I “swiffered” the dust onto the floor below.  Before I carefully placed the ball in the exact same spot where it landed on that mini sticks game day, I cupped both my hands around it and brought it to my face.  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and planted a kiss on it as if it were your cheek.  That place is now home to that little blue ball.  And I’m pretty sure it always will be. Love you, little blue (hah!).  More than a bus on top of a tall, hard to reach ledge. Momxo

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  • A Marshmallow World

    marshmallow world
    Living in Marshmallow World in Redwood Meadows

    January 29, 2017

     

    Dear Will,

     

    Well, true to Alberta (and Fernie form) its now chinooking outside and a melt is underway. When I walked Finn yesterday afternoon careful to avoid the puddles and the ice lurking beneath them I was remembering the marshmallow world that blanketed us just weeks ago. Large tufts of snow on branches and trees, on mailboxes and fence posts and anywhere that allowed a flat space for snow to accumulate I was filled with thoughts of you. The freezing temperatures brought “Christmas card snow” – you know, the kind that falls straight down with no wind to swirl it around or blow it off all the places that marked how deep and substantial that Willy blanket really was. Though cold enough to freeze my fingers and toes I couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the snowfall and how it formed marshmallow sculptures wherever it was possible. All of that snow and the beauty it created is so you.

    Taking in that marshmallow world made me think of how much you loved marshmallows. Your love of those blobs of pure sugar started with the small ones in a cup of hot chocolate and in my weak moments of motherhood how I’d offer them to you in a little bowl with raisins and/or cheerios. When I’d catch you with your little hand in the marshmallow bag I knew it was time to move the bag to a higher shelf in the pantry… sometimes behind cereal boxes so you couldn’t find them. After a bit of a battle with the little ones you finally gave up or perhaps the right way to say it was that you outgrew the little ones and grew into the large ones. And so began the world of making S’mores and roasting marshmallows over a fire on a stick.

    Like your brothers and what seems is a right of passage for all kids you learned the art of roasting the perfect marshmallow after many were sacrificed to the fire and if they didn’t fall off the stick into the fire you’d offer the black crispy blobs that you’d have to blow flames off of to Dad or me thinking that adults liked to eat these black ashes that were clearly not marshmallows anymore.

    marshmallow science

     

    OH, and then began the “Marshmallow Science” and where I had to draw a line in the sand and prohibit marshmallows going into the microwave. First Ben and then you. But as the little brother and true to your personality you had to have the last word and so the marshmallow science continued when I wasn’t home. However, I’d find the evidence… You guys seemed to get such pleasure putting a marshmallow on a plate and into the microwave watching the marshmallow puff up to at least 10x its original size. I remember watching your eyeballs grow wider and wider at the sheer joy of watching it grow. Then you guys would take it out of the microwave and put the plate out in the snow or into the freezer depending on the season. It would cool and then you’d try to eat it. Other than all the sugary goo (!) it seemed rather harmless … that is until it came time to wash the plate and that seemed to fall into my pile of things to do.

    It was then that I remember clearly having to put a stop to the marshmallow science because it was near impossible to wash the residue off of the plates without a heavy duty scraping tool. To this day I’m not certain that this type of tool falls under the category of a kitchen utensil. It was at this point that I believe your love of marshmallows stopped.

    Now when I see marshmallow snow I am reminded of your love affair with marshmallows and how much enjoyment they brought you. I smile now remembering what began as a little morsel of sugary goodness in a bowl when you were a toddler to the fiery blob of sugar on a stick that resulted in black, crispy blobs of ash to the perfect marshmallow in a s’more and to the ever popular (aka EVIL) marshmallow science that I had to put an end to. I’ll bet, just to have the last word, you’re up there making marshmallow science where no one can stop you and that when you bestow upon us down here on earth a beautiful marshmallow world of snow that you are laughing your head off up there. Of course, you are.

     I miss you so much, Will, and love you beyond everything and anything. Bigger than a bus full of marshmallows in a snowy marshmallow world.

     

     

     

    Momxo

     

     

     


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  • And So Winter Begins…

    snow
    My three boys loving the snow!

    Sunday, November 2, 2014

     

    Holy Cow, Will!

     

    You and the ski legends “upstairs” have been busy. After an October full of balmy temperatures and a Halloween that will go on record as one of the warmest in a handful of Halloweens, the big blanket of Willy that I am looking at this morning is another testament to your love for snow.

     

    Friday night I was watching the neighbourhood kids in their Halloween costumes parade from door to door in their “skinny” costumes instead of the “fat” ones we’ve become accustomed to because of the snowsuits the little ones needed to wear underneath their costumes. No little roly-poly’s this year, no mittens or gloves or winter boots and no snow to trudge through. The streets were alive with kids and parents who were not in a hurry to get out of the cold and back into their homes unlike some of the bitter cold Halloweens I remember when you boys were younger.

     

    snowman

    This morning is quite different. As the snow continues to fall the streets in our Community are quiet. It seems no one is rushing out of their homes… yet. It is still early and soon there will be a few who will venture out to begin to shovel their driveways. By mid morning I’m pretty sure our cul-de-sac will be full of kids in snow gear building snow forts and snowmen, piling snow to build jumps, and the “snow toys” that have been packed away since last winter will find themselves once again all over the yards of those with children. Until three years ago that was our house and if I could wish it all over again I would.

     

    The season of winter coats and pants and wet socks begins. The season of lost mitts and constant reminders to put on warm winter boots is now here. The days of clean clothes being dumped from the dryer so the wet ones could be tossed in to dry while the kettle was boiling water for hot chocolate is about to begin. The front door mess of wet toques and mitts, of snow boots and jackets, and ski pants with one leg turned inside out while sometimes still attached to a snow boot is now a memory of winters past. And perhaps the sweetest memory of all was your rosy cheeks and crazy “toque-head” hair. Many a time, you’d adorn one sockless foot while the other sock looked like a snake because your foot was pulled from your snow boot while your sock somehow wanted to stay in there, your big boisterous voice full of excitement and your unforgettable BIG smile when you’d finally come inside from a building-then-playing session in the big snow. Will, these were the days that I will cherish always — the days I would give anything to have back. I’m sure you also remember my raised voice, the sound of my frustration at the mess that would accumulate at the front door. When I’d tell you to hang up your stuff, you and your brothers would say the same thing, “Mom, it doesn’t fit in the closet” or “Mom, what’s the use of putting it away when I’m gonna put it on again as soon as it’s dry.”  And so it seemed that the heap of wet jackets and clothing and all the extra stuff that became a part of the front entrance to our home somehow stayed there for the whole winter. Yup, those were the winters I will fondly remember, the gifts of ordinary winter days.

     

    Will on the podium.jpg

    Today I imagine you up there with your BIG smile and boisterous yippees and yahoos making all that snow that wintertime brings with a big heavenly snow machine. I can visualize you wanting to dump bigger and bigger amounts upon us down here… though not for me per se, but for all the ski nuts like your dad and your brothers and your ski buddies who are anxious to begin a winter full of fun on skis and snowboards. Undoubtedly I will need to remind myself over and over, again and again, in the upcoming months of how much you loved the snow — a tactic I use to get through our winters down here without you. When watching the snow pile up appears nothing but a headache to me, I remind myself of how much you loved it and that can make me smile at all of it (for now).

     

    Love you, Willy. Like a bus and a big heavenly snow machine.

     

     

     

    Momxo


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  • It’s Angel Food Cake Day in Our House

    October 14, 2023,

    My dear, sweet Will,

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

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

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

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

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

    Momxo


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  • Yesterday and Forever

    Will and Kathleen... and now she's graduated from high school.  Where did the time go?  Yesterday and Forever
    Will and Kathleen… Yesterday and Forever ago
    Tuesday, July 7, 2015   Dear Will,   It’s been a tough couple of weeks. It’s always tough, but these two weeks have just been tougher. I know that Kathleen’s high school graduation was part of it… gosh, you knew so many of those kids and they just seem so grown up now. And that’s it. They are grown up and you, little Blue, are still 12 ½ in my mind.   When I look at your friends I think to myself, “where’d the time go?” and in the next breath it feels like eternity. I’ve said many times to many people that it seems like forever and yesterday all at once and the only thing that separates the forever and yesterday is a moment. Our good friends lost their 19 year old son 5 weeks ago and when I think of them as I often do it feels like yesterday that we were beginning the horribly sad road that they have just found themselves on. It all comes back to hit you again when you wonder if you would even have the strength to have to begin again.   Today, it feels like I’ve been on this road forever with no end in sight. 1,509 days have passed and I still wish it was all a bad dream or that you’ve been at a sleepover or at camp for 1,509 days and tomorrow maybe you’ll be back. Of course, that’s not true. No one does that. Sadly, I can’t book a trip to come and see you and I can’t put a circle around a day on the calendar that I can pick you up from the airport from a long trip. The reality is that I don’t know when I’ll see you again; I only know that one day I will be at the end of my life here on earth and you will be the first person I see on the other side. The visual I have of our sweet reunion is the most beautiful vision I hold. It is quite literally what keeps me going.   Oh, Willy. I miss you like yesterday and forever and love you like a bus on its way to there.     Momxo

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