As a citizen of this beautiful country and the place I am proud and happy to call home I have this desire to plant my feet on the two outermost coasts of Canada — one the furthest point east on PEI and the other the furthest point west on Vancouver Island. And so, Will, here I am crossing the furthest place west off of my bucket list. Dad and I and Finn travelled by car and ferry to the west side of Vancouver Island, to a place “where the rainforest meets the sea” in Super Natural British Columbia. Those two slogans have captured the very essence of where we were perfectly.
We spent a couple of days on Mackenzie Beach near the bustling little town of Tofino, not surprisingly loving and appreciating all the fresh seafood and at the same time surprised at how abundant the surf culture is there. It’s such a remote area where there is a surf shop or two or three and a fish and chip shack on every corner. I’m not naive enough to have thought there would be no surfing… after all it is the big wave side of the island, but holy cow, Will… The. Water. Is. Freezing! All. The. Time! I crossed off my bucket list a walk on Long Beach where we dipped our toes in the cold Pacific Ocean. This beach known by storm watchers in the winter and surfers the rest of the year is the furthest one can go before the Pacific Ocean eats up land. As I stood there I was reminded of two things. One, the next landform is Japan, thousands of miles away, and two — that you are pretty darn small when you stand beside the ocean where the next piece of land is Japan.
Mother Nature is definitely the boss here and sometimes I think we all to need to be reminded of the respect she commands. It was cool (ok, cold) and it had rained (heavily at times) but we managed also to find a window here and there where she gave us a beautiful blue sky and some sunshine. That coast line is known for its raw beauty, for the storms that roll in off the Pacific and for the array of clothing one must own if you want to spend some time there. Rubber boots and a warm, rain jacket are a definite must in that part of Canada and if you’re a surfer… well, you’ll need a wet/dry suit made of thick black rubber to cover every part of your body other than your eyeballs and your nostrils.
We spent 9 days, much of it, rolling along the highways in our vehicle, listening to music and a few downloaded podcasts, stopping to pick up coffees (and timbits for Finn) at the no shortage of Tim Horton’s along the way. We stopped in Kelowna and spent some time with your Uncle Jim, and in the Shuswap, too, to see your Auntie Mindie rounding out the new sights with familiar ones where we made many memories with you over the years. So many happy times we had together, Will. Those memories still bring tears as they were just the very best of times.
Our adventure to the west coast is behind us now and as we head east along the TransCanada nearing our home in Redwood Meadows I’m also reminded that there is no place like home. The memories that abound there in our home and in our community will always make the little place we call our home so very special. It was an awesome week away and all along the way I felt you sitting happy and tall on my left shoulder (where I’m told the boy angels sit). I love that wherever I go you come along. In my heart and on my left shoulder.
I love you, sweet boy. Like a bus on a long beach on the furthest place west where the rainforest meets the sea in the country we proudly get to call our home. And then like that same bus parked in our driveway in Redwood Meadows where the basketball net meets the cul-de-sac.
Momxo
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Our Sweet Will
September 13, 2015
Dear Will,
I woke this morning to a grey sky and a steady drizzle. I stayed in bed a little longer than I usually do thinking about what I “had” to do today and realized that my to-do list was secondary and that the laundry could wait another day. It seems there is always something that needs to get done or should get done, but I decided that today would be a gift. An “easy like a Sunday morning” day instead.
As I sit in my comfy spot on the couch with a cup of tea and my MacBook I find myself content that it is raining today. It means that all the outside tasks like emptying flowerpots, trimming branches and putting away sprinklers, etc. would not beckon me outside. Instead I am thinking about how quiet it is and how lucky I am to be able to just “be in the moment”. The only thing I hear is the plunking of my keys on the keyboard and Finn’s intermittent sighs – contentment written all over his stretched out body on his dog bed beside the fireplace.
I make a mental note to enjoy this solitude, as I know it will diminish once Murray makes his way downstairs and turns on the television to watch golf and football (his to-do list also not a priority today). I look around and think about what I might “want” to do instead; a plethora of creative play stuff dancing around in my head. So many possibilities… maybe I’ll paint… or read my book, perhaps doodle in my art journal or maybe paint a rock or two or three. And then my eyes are drawn to the table in the corner where a ball of ivory yarn with a half knitted project attached to it with knitting needles is beckoning me; a project I’d abandoned before summer began as knitting seemed a world away in the summer months. Maybe I’ll figure out where I’m at in my project and settle into the repetitive, clickety clack of my knitting needles. It is a perfect day to sit and knit.
But… before I get into that knitting project I’ll reminisce about you and what you might have been doing on this rainy day if you were here. There’s no question that you’d still be sleeping as it’s still early and I remember well the days of Justin and Ben sleeping till late morning on the weekends. Like your brothers on a lazy Sunday I imagine that grazing would be a given – scouring the fridge and the pantry for a little of this and little of that – leaving a path of granola bar wrappers and almost empty bowls of cereal in your wake would take up a big part of your day. Some hanging time with your buddies or maybe a girlfriend followed by the predictable wait for our Sunday family dinner. “What are we having, Mom?” “When will it be ready?” “Did you make lots?” All the usual questions.
I wish more than anything for another Sunday like that. Like I’ve said many times before, it’s all the ordinary things that I miss the most. Today I miss your grey, ripped sweat pants that exposed your boxers and that you begged me to not throw away. I miss your holey, mismatched socks that were never fully on your feet, the red, oversized t-shirt you loved, and your “bedhead” hair sticking up and out in all directions – a sign that you had slept long and well and that you had little interest in fixing until (maybe) you may have later left the house. Your shoes (the two-toned blue vans) that you loved so much would be somewhere near the front door (probably not together but in the same vicinity) and your Rasta colored toque would be on the step or hanging on the stairway railing post. I miss your path of stuff around our house and how it used to drive me crazy. The things I didn’t think I would ever miss… I miss.
Instead I will cherish those memories and remember all of your “Will-isms”. The stuff that made you “you” and the stuff that you’d adopted from your big brothers. The stuff that you thought was just the coolest and that drove them crazy when you wanted to copy them. I’ll remember the way you’d drop your lanky little self on top of Dad when he was lying on the couch watching golf and then how you’d giggle when he’d tousle your hair and give you a noogy. Of course tears will spill from my eyes as I recall so vividly your place in our family and then I’ll remind myself how much we loved you and how much we miss you. I’ll remind myself how lucky we were to have had those times with you and think about how sad it is that there are too many kids in this world who will never know that kind of love. Today I will walk right past the pile of laundry and say thank YOU for sending the rain today. It’s given me the gift of time to stop and reflect and remember an ordinary Sunday with you.
Love you little blue — tousled hair, holey socks and all. And like a bus, of course.
Momxo
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January 26, 2018
Dear Will,
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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Even though living in Alberta all of my life I know that I shouldn’t be surprised to see snow this late please, please, enough of the snow now. I know that the snow you are bestowing upon us is you letting us know that you are here with us. I get that you’re messing with us and that you’re up there laughing yourself silly. You’ve made all that abundantly clear but I’m begging you to please put that snowmaking machine away and give us some blue sky and some green grass! Sigh…. oh how happy I would be. The first few times I saw snowflakes after a big melt I did laugh and think it was funny (kind of?) but it is becoming less funny now. I get how much you loved having the last word and how much you love snow but how about you get out your soccer ball now!? Or your baseball mitt? Or your bike!?
Baseball in the Spring. Note the green grass!Soccer. Note the green grass!
This weekend is closing weekend for the ski resort in Fernie and though the base is still big and healthy thanks to you it IS time to put away your skis. I’m pretty sure I’m speaking for the masses (other than maybe your brother, Ben, who also loves winter). Last week was brutal. Waking up to 8 inches of the white stuff when just the week before Dad thought it safe to take my winter tires off while I was happily getting used to wearing my shoes without socks. I couldn’t help but think how that was pretty darn nice. The birds were singing in the early mornings – a joyous cacophony of the sounds of spring waking up the world after a long season of winter.
Please, little Mr. Blue Sky, hang up your skis now. Put the snow machine and all your magic snow potion in the back of your big heavenly closet up there and work on making the grass green. You’re a funny one, Will. Always were and still are but it is time for you to send those wee blue butterflies down for a visit.
As you know I love you more than anything and I miss you every minute of every day. Each new season brings me a season closer to being with you and once my days down here on earth are done and I’ve joined you up in heaven I promise we can go crazy with that snow making machine and I won’t complain…. but until then sweet Will, please put that sucker away.
Love you like a bus, Willy. Parked on a patch of really green grass.
Momxo
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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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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.
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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January 26, 2018
Dear Will,
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
