On Thursday when I turned the calendar to October my heart felt heavy. What was once one of the happiest months of the year now feels empty and hard as I try to prepare myself nothing seems to be able to take that feeling away. I’ve certainly gotten better at recognizing that my cup is half full instead of half empty but the turning of the calendar is yet another blatant sign of the passage of time; not just because it marks another month but because it’s your birthday month. On the fourteenth (in eleven days) you’d have been 17 years old and instead of celebrating with you at our family table we will honor you in what has become our new birthday tradition for you. Like always, I will still prepare your favourite meal (ribs) and bake a birthday cake and like we’ve done on your last four birthdays after dinner we’ll gather in the backyard with our handwritten messages tied to a helium balloon and in our own time we’ll let go, sending our messages up to you in heaven. It’s not easy, Will, but it is beautiful.
Instead of ruminating on the heaviness of what could have been I will live in the memories of birthdays past and remember the sometimes crazy birthday party adventures that you so loved. Your laugh, Will, and the sound of you and your friends running around like little super heroes outside will always be one of my favourite sounds.
Super heroes? … Well, here’s a super hero story that I want to tell you about. This week one of the little boys that I work with at school shot a ray of sunshine through my heart like a little super hero when he asked, “Mrs. Bouchard, can you tell me about your Will?” Of course, I said yes as I love when your name comes up. You are always on my mind and when someone asks about you my hearts swells. Though sometimes it’s through tears I can pour my heart out with stories about you. This little guy didn’t know you, Will; he’d never met you as he’d have only been 3 years old when you passed but somehow he’d heard of you and he wanted to know more about you. You were definitely on super hero status that day and after I answered his questions and shared the beautiful parts of having a boy like you he thanked me. You’d like this little guy, Will. And by the way, when he asked me if he’d meet you when he went to heaven I told him that for sure he would (because I told him you have his dog. His dog died a couple of weeks ago and you have him because you always wanted a dog).
My sweet Will, you are indeed a super hero. You’ll always be a super hero to me. The missing part of you is so big and I know that if you had the special powers it took to come home for your birthday you would. Instead, I believe you have the special skiing super powers that enable you to ski from cloud to cloud and star to star.
Love you like a bus with a big super hero cape.
Momxo
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November 1, 2015
Dear Will,
There is a sense of calm this morning as I visualize flipping the calendar to November. Since 2011, October has become a long and sad month and each year it continues to beat me up emotionally. We honored your birthday on the 14th in our own beautiful way and found ourselves busy both physically and mentally while we hoped and prayed for a positive outcome for Pa after he suffered a heart attack. He was airlifted to the Foothills Hospital in Calgary where he spent most of the last three weeks of October. It was a stressful time for all of us and I prayed extra hard that my Dad would make it through the open-heart surgery that was the only option to repair his heart. The unspoken and underlying possibility that Pa might join you in heaven weighed heavily on me, Will, and though there were moments where I wished I could trade places with him I was grateful and relieved when he was able to return home and begin his road to recovery and his second chance at life. October became a double whammy month of emotions and today I finally feel like I can breathe again.
After spending weeks “hoping” I’m now back to spending my days “wishing”. Wishing that the outcome of the 22nd day of May 2011 were different. I wish that you were here sitting on the couch beside me right now with a pillowcase full of Halloween candy and a mouth full of chocolate. I wish your shoes were at the front door with mismatched socks “sort of in the vicinity” and that your jacket was draped/thrown over the stair banister with the arms pulled inside out. Yes. Inside out. The inside out thing was definitely a Will thing.
When I’d do laundry I’d cuss and swear while sorting the clothes, annoyed that all of your t-shirts were inside out. And so I’d either turn them right side in before I’d toss them into the washing machine or before I folded them when they came out of the dryer… the extra time it took kind of drove me crazy. I remember the day I decided to leave them inside out and folded them that way thinking I was so clever and that giving you a taste of your own medicine would surely teach you a lesson, that it’d drive you crazy — but not only did you appear to not care even one bit I think you were completely oblivious to the whole inside out thing. That day, Will, changed the way I did laundry and to this day if there are t-shirts (or socks) that are inside out I leave them like that. Ha! I think. Ha! And like you, no one really seems to care that they are inside out. Oh my, the stuff that drives a mother crazy…
I wish you were here with us every single day. Before your passing I used to consciously think about what I’d wish for if I was given a wish and now all I wish for is you. You with your tousled hair and your big feet. Maybe with socks, maybe without. You singing out LOUD to the music on your iPod with your ear buds in and me reminding you to remove them from your ears. You, Willy, loving Halloween because of all the candy and the chance to dress up and be silly with your friends. I would be the happiest human being on earth if the one wish I wished more than anything could come true. And even though I know it’s not possible I continue to wish that it were different.
Love you, Willy. Like an inside out bus and a big wish.
Momxo
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Will’s Grade 7 Photo
December 6, 2015
Dear Willy,
A month has passed since I’ve put my words to you in a letter, however, that certainly doesn’t mean that you haven’t been in my thoughts… its quite the contrary as you are on my mind every minute of every day. Like my breath, I inhale thoughts of you, hold them for a moment, and then exhale wishing that things were different. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Every breath.
It is early Sunday morning, the sun is still sleeping and there’s still a hush throughout the house and the neighbourhood. I am full to the brim of thoughts of you. So full that I couldn’t create more room without telling you how much I love you and how much I miss you. For a few weeks now there is a white blanket of Willy covering the ground and I’m thinking this blanket of Willy is here to stay for the winter. Each time you blanket us with more snow I imagine how happy you must be up there stirring up a big dump of beautiful, white crystals and how excited you must be when you dump them on us and on the mountains so that Dad and your brothers can do what they love to do and what you loved so much too. The mountains are beckoning them…. It’s early season and they are hopeful that you’re up there trying to figure out how to send more of the white stuff to the mountains.
With December comes Christmas and the hustle and bustle of the season has begun. Yesterday I spent the day shopping and it hit me numerous times how difficult it was when we had to somehow find a way to get through Christmas without you that first year. Gosh, those were sad days and I remember how hard it was to even step foot into a shopping mall. I attempted twice and both times abandoned the stores and ran out to the car to catch my breath and to cry. It makes me think that we’ve come a long way from that first Christmas without you and though it’s still difficult and still sad we’ve a whole new way of celebrating the holidays, having adopted new traditions with you in the centre of all of them.
For now, I’ve pushed my Christmas list aside and am basking in thoughts of my morning with you. Early this morning I felt you so close to me. I lay there quietly for a long time with my eyes closed, imagining myself calling your name and watching you run towards to me. A wise and beautiful friend has told me that the veil is thin between you and I and I hold ever so tightly to that belief. One day, Will, at the end of my breaths here on Earth you really will come for me and I will see you, and I’ll hear you. You’ll be running, as will I, with arms open wide and once again I will be full and not broken. Until then I’ll take these moments with you and I’ll breathe. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. And I’ll hold onto each and every beautiful memory that I have.
I miss you sweet boy and I love you so very much. Bigger than a bus times a million.
Momxo
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Grade 4Five Years OldGrade 7
September 18, 2014
Dear Little Blue,
I was looking at photos of you yesterday. Something I do frequently. Before your passing, I’d look at the photos that grace the walls in our home daily, but it’s a different kind of “looking at” now. Back then it was a “walk by” look and now it’s a “stop and stare”. With my eyes closed I can recall every detail of every photo of you in our home as I’ve looked at them, studied them, held them to my chest and hugged them in many of my quiet moments. Something as ordinary as a photo is now so much more – each one a priceless treasure, a sweet memory of a time when you graced our home and our lives with your physical presence.
What I am drawn to first in every photo of you is your Willy blue eyes. My grandmother used to tell me that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Of course, there are obvious things that you can tell by looking into someone’s eyes… whether someone is sad or happy, scared or angry, excited or sleepy, and sometimes whether or not someone might be fibbing you. She was wise, my grandmother, and as a mother to three boys herself I’m almost certain that she got pretty good at deciphering all kinds of fibbing by looking into the eyes of her boys (one of them, your Pa) while they were growing up. It’s what moms do.
When I looked into your eyes there was more than the obvious emotions. It was like I was being drawn into your soul, into your very being and the deep emotions and beliefs that made you, YOU. There was a curious and sweet transparency to you, Will, and your eyes were the windows to all of it.
My favorite part of your blue eyes was the way they smiled at life. I didn’t need to see the corners of your mouth turn up to know that you were smiling as your eyes had their own special smile. There was a deep and magical pull to your blue eyes and the pull was the strongest when you were happy. Happiness spilled from them (and sometimes spit and vinegar when you knew you had someone’s goat… which also made you pretty happy).
I miss you, Will, and your incredible blue eyes… the windows to your beautiful soul. When I look at pictures of you now I wish that you could wink back at me, that you could give me a smile, and then in an instant I know that that isn’t possible. If you could, you would. Instead I look for your winks and your smile in the stars when they twinkle, in the snow when it sparkles, in the falling leaves as they flutter to the ground. I see your soul on the wings of butterflies and in the fresh morning dew as it clings to the green grass. Your soul is the summer breeze, the spring rain, the smell of fall, and the beauty of fluffy white snow in the winter (Did you get that, Will? IN THE WINTER!). Your soul surrounds me and sometimes it feels so palpable that I want to pinch myself. But I don’t for fear that I will be wrong. Instead I let myself get lost in you and I think of the happy times we shared and dream of the eternal happy times we’ll have when I see you again.
Love you like a bus with big, blue windows to your soul.
Momxo
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My Sweet Will
Friday, July 12, 2013
Hey Will,
One of the hardest parts of losing you is watching time pass. The world keeps turning; days turning into weeks and then to months and when I note the date or have to write it on something I shake my head – still not believing that its been two years (actually, 2 years, 52 days). It seems like yesterday and forever at the same time. I carry-on (somehow) most days but it isn’t without you on my mind every minute of every day. I guess it is true that you are a part of me; a part of me that will be forever, and I find comfort in believing that as a mom and a son we are inseparable always. Innately, I look for you everywhere I go, like I have special invisible glasses that can see you in the smallest of things. Yesterday while walking through the woods I stopped and took notice of all the different hues of your favourite color, green, that surrounded me; so many trees, tall and short, big and small, both deciduous and coniferous, the bushes abundant with leaves of all shapes and colors of, yes, green. The forest floor, also green, was covered with plants of all types, new shoots, moss… like a green carpet covering the dark brown fertile soil that provided a rich contrast to all the greenery. It was beautiful; Mother Nature at one of her finest. You’ll like this part, Will, for in the next heartbeat, I shuddered to think how many insects (for me, just a nicer sounding word for bugs) there were all around where I stood and instantly I thought how that wouldn’t have bothered you at all. On the contrary, for surely you’d have looked for the bugs, the spiders, the creepy crawly things, and found the “ickyness” written all over my face quite entertaining. I felt you with me in that green world and I laughed to myself knowing that while I was noticing all of the green stuff, you’d have been looking at the forest quite differently. You’d have been looking at the tree trunks, and the branches, wondering how and where you could get up in there and climb, wondering how high you could go without a worry in the world.
As my eyes were diverted back down to the ground, they were drawn to a little white flower that sprouted up and out of the soil. It was small with feathery leaves; bowing its head in my direction… and through my special invisible glasses I saw you. I frequently notice the little things now – like this little white flower, little blue butterflies, even the beauty in a single raindrop; things I’d have not really thought twice about before. Somehow these invisible glasses also give me a double vision; I see things through my eyes and then through yours. When I stop to look at the beauty in little things, I see you looking back at me and for a moment time stands still. Then when I blink, you’re gone. I used to cry, straining so hard to find you, to see you, but now I trust that you are there and that I will see you. It’s a lesson I am happy to have learned for when I tried to see you in the big picture I could never find you. I know you are never far from me, Will. We are inseparable, held together by an invisible thread. You will always be my Will and I will always be your mom. No one can ever take that away.
Love you little son/sun… like a bus and a little white flower in a green world.
Momxo
The CordWe are connected, my child and I,By an invisible cord not seen by the eye. It’s not like the cord that connects us ’til birth, This cord can’t be seen by any on earth. This cord does its work right from the start It binds us together, attached to my heart. I know that it’s there, though no one can see The invisible cord from my child to me. The strength of this cord is hard to describe It can’t be destroyed, it can’t be denied. It’s stronger than any cord man could create It withstands the test, can hold any weight. And though you are gone, though you’re not here with me The cord is still there, but no one can see. It pulls at my heart, I am bruised, I am sore But this cord is my lifeline as never before. I am thankful that God connects us this way A mother and child, death can’t take it away.~ author unknown ~
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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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The color of your eyes and yes, the color of the sky on a beautiful sun-kissed day.
You are undeniably our little Mr Blue Sky but sometimes blue is used to describe feelings of sadness and these December days are quite blue for me, Willy. It’s not surprising at this time of year to harbour these feelings — we know this well, for every book on grief, every counsellor we spoke to and every parent walking with us on this journey will attest that that is true. Of course, it is. Missing a loved one over the holidays can certainly conjure up a dark blue cloud of sad that can sometimes, for some, make December unbearable.
For me, December feels like a magnifying glass pointed at the empty chair. Your absence is palpable, Will … sometimes it screams at me and try as I do to search for the silver lining sometimes there are days when I just have to succumb to these blue feelings and I retreat to a place within. I go quietly to that sacred place in my heart where the very best memories live, where you live and where I feel closest to you. I pray to God to help me through the darkness and ask him to watch over me as I sit there for a bit. Long enough to get lost in all those perfectly ordinary days that we shared but not too long that I would forget how to pull myself up. You know this place well, Willy… it’s where we learned to dance between what was and what is. My heart reminds me that grief and sadness are the price of love and that I am feeling blue because I love you and I miss you.
Sure, the hustle and bustle of December is here and…
I’ve yet to pull out the Christmas boxes, but I will.
I’ve yet to put up the tree, but I will.
I’ll bake little gingerbread boys, like I always do.
I’ll play Christmas music and sing out loud, like I always do.
I’ve yet to make my shopping list and venture out to the shops, but I will.
I’ll wrap gifts and plan our Christmas dinner, like I always do.
And, all the while I will miss you every second of every minute. Like I always do.
But, for today and maybe even tomorrow I will dance with you and not worry about the list. When it feels right I’ll be ready to return to the hustle and bustle of December feeling recharged and ready to go. You will urge me to go, reminding me that it is what you’d want me to do. With your gentle nudge I will get busy and “bring on” Christmas like we always do. I will trust that everything will get done to the best of my ability and that what will be this December, will be exactly what it should be. I will be present for those that are my world — Dad and Ben and Justin and Amy and Finn — knowing that together is the best place to be and knowing also that you’ll be smack dab in the middle of all of it. My beautiful family and my friends that feel like family will be close in my thoughts and I will let them all know how grateful I am for their love, their continued support and for their friendship. They really are the best gifts.
You are my blue crayon, Will, and I love you more than a blue sky day and a bus full of blue crayons.
Momxo
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