January can be a downer for many people. It’s been proven. And I get it. But somedays can be bluer than blue… like today. I feel like there’s a dark blue cloud over my head and though I know you’re still sitting on my left shoulder I think this dark cloud might silence even you today. Try as I might I just can’t seem to shake it off. So what do I do when I have a day like this? What can I do? Well…. maybe I just need to sit with the blues. Maybe I’ll give myself permission to sit out today. Surely the world will be just fine with me watching from the sidelines.
I’ll drink tea and reminisce about happier days. I’ll close my eyes and time travel back to the days when our world was perfect and remember all the perfectly ordinary days when you kept me on my toes, kept me running, kept me busy and, on occasion, kept me “unkept”. Ah yes, those days. Those days when I was angry at something you did and I became unhinged. And you could tell because of the deep furrow in my forehead and how my eyebrows would knit together into that horrible, chunky line. This, of course was the precursor to me raising my voice and stomping my feet. AND THEN the way you’d cock your head ever so slightly and not say a word while staring at my eyebrows and then you’d do that thing with your nostrils…. that flaring in and out thing that would make me laugh. You just couldn’t stand to see me angry so you’d turn on your Willy nostrils and watch my frowns turn into smiles and my smiles turn into laughter. That was a brilliant strategy when I look back at it. (Not so sure it would have worked as smoothly as it did in your teen years…).
While I sit out today I’ll think about how wrapped up I could get in things that weren’t important or that I couldn’t control. I’ll think about how much time and energy I expended on stuff that really didn’t matter. And then I’ll remind myself that I did the best that I could on those given days and that all of it came from a place of love. I’ll look at today and remind myself of that very same message. I’ll tell myself that these blue days all come back to love. Because they just do. I’m sad today because I miss you and I’m down and out because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I’ll never be ready to say goodbye. And so I won’t. I can’t. I think I never will.
Then I’ll tell myself that no matter how blue my mood you are still the brightest light in my world, my North Star. Grief is a bigger monster than usual today and no matter how dark the blue cloud I will hold on tight to the good things and the good people that care about me. And I’ll hold on to everything that is you.
While I sit on the sidelines today I know and I trust that your little light (and the thoughts of your little flaring nostrils) will pull me out of this blue cloud and that it will dissipate. All I ask, Will, is that you sit with me today. In love. In trust. In hope. Flaring nostrils and all.
I miss you, sweet boy. And I love you so very much. Like a bus, only bigger.
Momxo
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Monday, May 19, 2014
Dear Will,
The toughest weekend of the year is in it’s final hours and as I sit here in my pajamas in the mid afternoon staring out at our WillBilly tree, I see the green ribbons from your thirteenth birthday still tied to your branches and am reminded how much your tree has grown in three years. Its another day of intermittent sun, rain, sun, rain and in many ways mirrors the ups and downs that come with the long weekend that will always be defined as the weekend that our world changed. It has been a weekend of attempts at distraction; a dinner out with friends, a movie date – just Dad and I, of quiet times and withdrawal, of bike rides with Finn and Dad, of naps and tea and a hot bath, and of many tears. It has been a weekend of intense memories, of flashbacks, and reflections of how yesterday three years ago, began so happy and ended so tragically. This long weekend is also another reminder of the passage of time and how missing you gets bigger and bigger and bigger.
As I skim the tops of the trees, searching for a break in the overcast sky for a patch of blue and for signs of you, I think about the many ways love has found its way to me over these last couple of days. Friends and family have shown their love and sent their hugs via text messages and emails and voicemails. Love also came in the form of a heartfelt letter attached to a written poem from a woman I am beginning to realize is magical. Yesterday morning, before Dad and I got out of bed, love found its way to our doorstep in the form of a loaf of freshly baked cinnamon bread. There was no note, but I knew where it had come from and I hope that this special friend knows that her simple gesture was so much bigger than that. It was love. Love came in the form of a friend offering the simple distraction of a ride to Bragg Creek in her new car. Love appeared when Justin came for dinner last night and it came in a loving text exchange with Ben as I crawled into bed last night. Love has come in the form of quiet embraces from Dad and from wet nose kisses from our big, brown dog. Part of Finn’s morning routine is to jump up on our bed and wiggle his way in between Dad and I like you used to do. He has so much of you in him, which explains why we frequently refer to him as the FinnWilly (knew you’d like that, Willly). Some of the most important people in my world are away this long weekend and yet I feel their love as if they were sitting here beside me. There is a string of texts from my most special friend that is like an invisible chain of paper hearts from her to me. Of course, it is love.
Not surprisingly, this weekend is full of a heaviness that I can’t shake off and hard as I try I think it’s just easier to succumb to it, to accept that it is just that — a weekend to be sad. Today, I gave myself permission to have a pajama day and to cry. I’m in my pajamas because there isn’t anything more comfortable and I cry because I am missing you so very much. Soon Will, I believe that a rainbow will fill the sky and I’ll know it’s you sending big love my way.
I love you from my toes up to the stars and, of course, like a bus.
Momxo
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Our Finn and Old Buck
Thursday, March 28, 2013 (676 days without you)
Dear Willy,
Jess, next door, put old Buck down yesterday. Over the last year and a bit his quality of life was diminishing quite rapidly and understandably so. At almost 15 years old (105 in doggie years) he wasn’t the same Buck you’d have remembered. Oh, how you loved that dog and he, you. When I spoke to Jess today she told me that one of her fondest memories was when you and Ben would wander over to their house when they were just new to our cul-de-sac to ask if you could take Buck for walks. I will always remember how cute the two of you looked with Buck as I watched your backs head down the street. It will be odd to not see old Buck out and about but my heart smiles knowing that now he has you. He has you to take him for walks pain-free in heaven. And you have an old pal to keep you company; to sit at your feet, to pet, and to cuddle up to. It’s no secret that you always wanted a dog… And now you have one of the best.
Take care of each other up there. I know you will find him… you’ll see him, Will, for he is the old yellow lab with the tail that never, ever stops wagging. Miss you, Willy.
Love you like a bus full of labs,
Momxo
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Waiting their turn to play volleyball… Jordan, Sam, and Will
Thursday, August 18, 2011 (89 days)
Dear Willy,
Today I met with Mrs. McLaren at your school and mine, too. She kindly bought me a latte and we shared a piece of banana bread while we talked about you and all the things that made you so special to Banded Peak. I have decided that I’d like to return to the school for a couple of days a week and so we talked about that too. To be there everyday would be just too difficult and as I explained to Mrs. McLaren I have some work to do on me. I have to grow that new appendage… remember the starfish story? When a starfish loses one of it’s “arms” it grows a new one and I was telling her that when I lost you, I lost one of my “arms” and that arm will always be with you… you, being only twelve, still needed your mom and, gosh, as your mom I still needed you too. I don’t know what my new appendage will look like but I am on a mission to grow a fabulous one because it will be for you. One could also call it finding my new purpose here on earth; finding a reason to live out my days until I am reunited with you. I think she understood what I was trying to say. We discussed that I will not work in your grade grouping as that would be torturous really. But I think being at the school in a lower grade might be good for me. Another bittersweet, Will… and boy oh boy, my world is filled with those.
I explained to Mrs. McLaren that sometimes my eyes will well up with tears while at work but that maybe my tears didn’t have to be a negative; that maybe the kids would see that being sad is part of being human — that even adults have tears sometimes and that it is ok. Maybe my emotions would bring out their emotions and maybe, just maybe, bring down their “walls”; especially the kids that come to school and hide amongst the turmoil of anxiety, the ones that have tummy aches and tears and sadness and behavior issues, etc. I told her how great it might be for them to see that they are helping me too and that it wouldn’t be just me helping them. Life is a two way street and working together could help them and me all at the same time. I know that there will be times when it will be overwhelmingly sad and I will have to excuse myself and maybe leave for a few minutes, but she told me that would be ok and completely understandable. I am so grateful for the school and the support I have there.
You have impacted so many, Will, and I will need you to help me through this. Help me understand that it is right and good for me to go back. Give me the strength I will need daily and the courage to show that being human has all kinds of faces; some happy and some really sad. Sit proudly on my left shoulder where the boy angels sit everyday I am there. I will need you there WITH me…. because that is where you should be. And, by the way, Willy, when I grow my new “arm”, this starfish Mom of yours will still always need you.
Love you more than five arms,
Momxo
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Will, Kathleen, and Kale in “the big sandbox of life”
Wednesday, March 31, 2026
Hey my sweet boy,
I’ve been thinking about you more than usual these days. There are so many things—daily—that conjure thoughts of you and as I sat down to write you a letter I was trying to quantify how much that really is. I know for sure that I think about you with all of my heart and believe me, Willy, the vastness of my heart and what it holds is way bigger than a bus. You not only reside there, but you are the shape of my heart because you fill every space in it. There is not a day that I am not reminded of you in some way and that I don’t say your name . . . sometimes to myself and sometimes out loud. There is not a day that I don’t smile because of you. Even when a smile might not be the first thing that comes.
For instance, I wasn’t going to mention the seemingly incessant snow squalls that have me in a constant state of “what the heck, Willy” but I’m kind of done with the frequent white blankets of Will for now. Not only does the snow make me think of you but I can also hear you laughing your little self to pieces watching me down here struggle with the boots on/boots off stuff. And then, guess what? I smile.
You were indeed a bundle of boy. A boy full of joy and of silliness, of wonder, of awe, of fun, of all the good stuff and all the things that mirrored the pure and simple innocence of a life not yet hardened by real-life cruelties. You didn’t know hate or bombs or death because of race or religion or skin colour or where you were born. You were a boy who proudly and openly wore love on your sleeve and who was drawn to the sandbox of life because everyone was welcome there and that is where you made friends. You didn’t know how much hate could hurt the world because hate didn’t live in your sandbox. I think about our world and how much it could sure use a little more Willy.
You are my little buoy in a sea of uncertainty, my calm in the storm, my little sun in a world that is holding too much darkness. You are my hope and my life preserver all rolled into one. You are my smile at the end of the day and when the days feel sadder, darker, scary and uncertain, you are my little reminder and my prayer that everything is going to be okay. You are my smile when things get crazy, Willy, even when it is just another snow squall laying down a white blanket of Will on a spring day.
Maybe that is precisely why I am thinking about you more than usual these days. My world—the world—our world—desperately needs a little more Willy right now.
I miss you more than ever and I love you bigger than my heart and our bus.
Momxo
Will’s One Love canvas that he painted and that lives in my office.
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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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Fernie Alpine Resort photo credit: Fernie Alpine Resort
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Dear Willy,
It’s a beautiful, bluebird morning in Fernie and I am in my pajamas with a cup of tea watching the sunshine awaken the mountain that beckons you. You, Will, are all I am thinking of. I feel drawn to this place, a gentle unwavering pull that is you. It seems to me that so many adults struggle with where they want to retire, where they see themselves wanting to spend the next chapter of their lives when their kids are grown and have finished university to embark on “the school of real life”. The decision to spend more time in Fernie and make this the place where we will retire became crystal clear when we sadly and tragically lost you in May 2011. Life and me so defined by that day – like a line in the sand. I subconsciously categorize all that happens in my world as before losing you and after losing you.
Will skiing in Fernie – the place he wanted to someday call home.
The before is full of so many wonderful memories; days full of laughs and giggles, of hugs and I love yous (oh, there were some “I’m mad at yous” too), of brothers pushing buttons to provoke deliberate annoyance, of driving here and there and everywhere, and of constant negotiations around, well, everything. Life was good then, it was full and the way it was supposed to be, the norm so to speak… all of them days that I would give anything to have back. Life after losing you has been a struggle to say the least. Days where there is no choice but to find a way to live, days where I must go on without the physicality of you. Even though I see signs of you everywhere and know in my heart that you are all around me spiritually, the physical part is what I miss so very much. The reality that I cannot see you grow, that I can’t tousle your hair and feel your hugs or hear what your teenage voice would sound like are still too hard to bear. What keeps me going, Will, is my belief that I will see you again and that when I do we will be together for eternity. Believing that you strategically send signs that confirm your presence continue to put the warm and fuzzy in my living days.
Our FinnWilly
I will forever believe that you are every beautiful snowflake, every rainbow, every blue butterfly, and every heart shaped rock on my path. You are the sparkle in a dewdrop and the twinkle of a star and you are that warm wind that sometimes so suddenly will hit my face on a frigidly cold day. I believe that you are the knowing eyes in our dog and the playful spirit and knowing way that Finn just has to be in the middle of Dad and I wherever we are. I think all of this is YOU showing up, sending your love, and reminding us that you are here.
Please keep on showing up, Willy. Keep on sending those signs that sometimes stop me in my tracks and sometimes make me turn around and go back, the signs that make me whisper your name and make me stop and stay in the moment for awhile. You are the signs that make me feel warm and fuzzy, that sometimes make me smile and sometimes make me cry. Today, Little Blue, you are the blue sky that serves as the backdrop to the mountain you called your own. You are the sunshine that makes that blue sky possible today and you are the reason that I find myself smiling right now.
Big, big Love (photo credit unknown)
Love you like a bus, Will. The bus that sits on the white sparkling snow somewhere over the rainbow. That’s big love, Will. Big, big love.
Momxo
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