My Blue Crayon

Monday, December 2, 2013 Hey Will, Well, true to the weatherman’s forecast last night I woke this morning to a blustery, heavy snowfall… what he’d referred to as an imminent blizzard and what you’d refer to as “one of the best days ever!”  I am grateful that I don’t work Mondays and that I didn’t have to get out of bed to an alarm this morning and make my way to school.  I lay in my bed for a while with the warm, feathery duvet tucked in all around me wondering if this is what it would feel like to be floating on a cloud?  Outside, the snow swirled in the intermittent wind, big flakes interrupted from their usual flight pattern and what we normally see here in Redwood.  Because we are nestled amongst the trees we usually see the snowflakes fall like on a Christmas card, but NOT today.  For a few minutes I thought about how horrible the road conditions must be, how terrible the visibility would be on the highways, how the wind would bite my cheeks when I would eventually have to go outside to shovel the driveway… and then in the next breath I thought about what you’d be thinking if you were here.  How you’d jump out of bed on this scheduled day off of school (probably before the alarm on a school day).  How you’d be planning how quickly you could get dressed, eat breakfast and find a friend or two to come over and start the process of building a ski jump and mini rail park in the backyard.  I chuckled to myself, thinking how brilliant Dad and I would have been in winters past to have encouraged you and your brothers to build your winter playground in the front yard (instead of the backyard) adjacent to the driveway…. how you guys would have shoveled the driveway so you’d have more snow to build with (without even thinking of it as shoveling the driveway which would have been a win/win for all of us).  You wouldn’t feel the wind, or the biting cold but instead would be vibrating with excitement thinking only about being outside in the snow.  Hours would pass before you’d burst through the back door shedding all of your outside winter clothing (boots and all) into a big heap hoping that I’d already thought about plugging in the kettle to make hot chocolate.  I smile now remembering how rosy your cheeks would be, how your hair would look like it was home to a pack of mice after you removed your toque, how you’d say your hands and feet were frozen but not complain.  I know I’d be shaking my head, wondering how kids just don’t feel the cold like grown-ups.  And then, here it comes, Will… the words that would roll off my tongue, “Will, please hang up your coat, put your mitts on the heat register.  Your toque won’t dry laying under your boots (oh, there’d probably be more) and then you can have a cup of hot chocolate.”  Because you’d really only come inside for a cup of hot chocolate and a chance to warm up your fingers and toes you’d comply without me having to ask you again to clean up the “heap” at the back door.  As soon as your belly was warm, and your fingers and toes too, out you’d go and the process would begin again.  Outside, inside, outside, inside… Tonight when I’d tuck you into your bed, you’d be hoping and praying for the heavy snowfall to continue.  The icing on the cake would be a phone call from Rockyview Schools early tomorrow morning saying that school was cancelled due to the weather so you could repeat today; a true blue snow day and no school was the very best kind. So instead of thinking of today as a terrible winter blizzard, I am going to think of it as you’d have.  I’ve nowhere that I have to be today, so I’m happy to be “stuck here” at home.  Each time I look out the window, Will, I will imagine you out there in all your glory… loving every minute of the heavy snowfall and all the winter playground possibilities that it would bring.   This afternoon, I’ll plug in the kettle and make some hot chocolate; I’ll make two cups, Will… one for you with extra marshmallows and one for me.  I’ll give yours to Dad since he’s working from home today and we’ll smile through our tears wishing you were here. Missing you so much today.  Love you like a yellow school bus stuck in the snow with nowhere to go. Momxo

May 18, 2023

My dearest, sweet Will,

It is May again and your Angel date is approaching. I need not look at a calendar to know that it is soon because I can feel it. The days feel different; off kilter, off axis. My sleep is disturbed, my mind is pre-occupied, my focus distant. I’m somewhere else. I am with you x a million.

Quite simply, I miss you, Willy. There are no words on earth that can quantify just how much I do. You will always be the brightest star in the nighttime sky and my biggest reason to find my way in this world. You are love and hope x a million and on days like this I close my eyes and allow my tears to fall. Only then can I go to that place in my heart where your little light cannot be extinguished. It is in that place that love turns sadness into smiles and hope into strength. It is here where I find gratitude in every single ordinary day that we shared and where I am reminded that grief and sadness are really just the price of love… x a million.

I’ll be looking for you this weekend, Will. I’ll find you in all sorts of places; I always do. I will look at your bright little star in the nighttime sky and I’ll stare long enough to see you twinkle right back at me. 

I miss you and I love you, sweet boy. More than a bus and 12 years x a million.

Momxo

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