Sixteen Candles on an Angel Food Cake

Posted on by
Reply
Will's Third Birthday

Will’s Third Birthday

October 14, 2014,

 

 

 

Happy Heavenly Birthday Will,

 

Upon waking this morning and with you ever present in my mind, the first words out of my mouth as I looked out my bedroom window and up to the sky were my birthday wishes for you. Today is your 16th birthday and I am saving today just for you.

 

So much has happened in a week, since my last letter. It was so great to have Ben home from University for Thanksgiving; gosh, I miss him (his mess, not so much) and I was grateful for having both Justin and Ben at the table for our turkey dinner on Sunday. You were there too, in the middle of the four of us lighting up our table by candlelight.

 

Unfortunately, Thanksgiving was far from the minds of Nana and my Uncle and cousins and family as they are in the midst of missing their beautiful sister, wife, mom and grandmother. Auntie Barb succumbed to her battle with cancer early on Saturday morning and has left all of us with all of those questions that have no answers. I remember it as if it were yesterday, those first days after losing you. All the numbness and the pain, the disbelief and the wishing that it were just a bad dream. It STILL feels like that. I drove to Medicine Hat on Friday wanting desperately to see her and to be there for Nana. I wanted to tell Auntie Barb that you’d be waiting for her, and that you’d make her smile and take her to Papa D. She beat me to it Will – as soon as I took her hand in my own and before I could speak, she told me she’d be seeing you soon and that she hoped I wouldn’t be too sad. If I could have traded places with her I would have. I told her that and in her wise and barely audible words she told me life didn’t work like that. I returned home Sunday morning wanting so very badly to see Dad and your brothers and to find the comfort I needed amongst them and memories of you in our home on Thanksgiving and your birthday.

 

Today I think about you being 16. I wonder what you’d look like, how long your hair would be or whether you’d want it short. I wonder how tall you would be and what your voice would sound like all grown up. I wonder how big your feet would be and if you’d be wearing a hat or a toque today. I wonder if you’d be shaving, and if you would have a girlfriend. I wonder if Kathleen would show up after school today with a bag full of your favourite candy and if today would have been the day you’d have passed your driver’s test.

 

I smile knowing only that you’d be handsome as ever with the bluest eyes in the land. I smile knowing that you’d be taller than me, and that your feet would be large. I know you’d be over the moon happy today, happy to be 16 and the centre of attention and happy to be driving like your friends. While I was walking Finn this morning I thought about what kind of car you might have up there. Whether it was an expensive racecar type that boys dream about or a ski van. Pondering those thoughts for a few minutes it suddenly came to me that you’d probably have the same vehicle as Ben. A truck just like his… probably even the same color… and I think Ben might actually be happy about that too.

 

Today I will visit Heaven’s Gate and I will place a painted rock under your tree there. Tonight we will have angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream just like we would have had if you were here with us. Instead I imagine that today Auntie Barb might just bake you the best angel food cake ever and that she’d ice it with that really fluffy white icing that only Nana D could make.

 

Happy Sixteen, Willy. I am sending you love and wishes and hand blown kisses all day.

 

Love you like a bus and a birthday truck just like Ben’s.

 

 

Momxo

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sixteen Octobers and a Little Yellow Butterfly

Posted on by
3

 

A long gone October day with Brent and Jordan

A long gone unforgettable October day with Brent and Jordan

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

 

 

Dear Will,

 

For seven days now memories of the beautiful day in October when you were born are all I think about. Each year since your tragic passing it has been the same — as soon as September turns to October your birthday consumes me. On the first day of every October you would start by announcing, “14 days till my birthday!” and in the next breath, “What are we gonna do!?” Then the countdown would begin. A week from today you would have reached a milestone birthday – you’d be 16 years old. It is difficult for me to wrap my head around this because 16 seemed so far away when we celebrated your 12th birthday and what would be your last with us here. Like your brothers and most everybody turning 16, I suppose that getting your drivers license would be the first and most important thing on your list and right about now I imagine that you’d be scouring the Alberta Drivers License booklet refreshing yourself of all the facts you’d need to know so you could pass your drivers test. “Mom, can you quiz me?” “Can you ask me some questions after dinner?” “Mom, I think I’ve got it! But please can you ask me some more questions?” “Please, pretty please…?” As October 14th approaches I wish more than anything that you were here driving me crazy with your persistent excitement at turning 16 years old. Gosh, Will, if only it were different…

 

Instead, the memories of the twelve birthdays we celebrated together hit me like ocean waves rolling up on the beach. One memory after another conjures up endless pictures in my mind, numerous conversations and laughs we shared, and all the angel food cakes, icecream, and pizzas that were part of your special day. I remember all the places we went (bowling, gymnastics, swimming, and movies) and the times, too, when we had your birthday party at home. I think of how our kitchen table was surrounded by your friends, all with orange-dyed lips from the orange pop that you loved so much. Each time I write the word October or hear it in conversation or see it on a calendar or a piece of paper I feel sad; sad for what should be, for what you missed, and for what we missed too. It’ll never be right that you didn’t see sixteen Octobers.

 

With you ever present in my mind and while walking Finn down by the river this afternoon, a little yellow butterfly appeared. In an instant I knew it was you and as I walked and Finn chased his ball I talked to you. It felt nice to say your name and so I said it over and over. When I’d stop to pick up the ball with the chucker the little yellow butterfly would stop too. And then start. And then stop. This went on for quite some time and while tears rolled down my cheeks I noticed I was smiling too. You have this way, Will, of showing up when I need you, of validating my belief that you really are here and that you are never far away. As I struggle with what would have been your sixteenth October I applaud that little yellow butterfly that so profoundly visited Finn and me this afternoon. Thank you for finding me.

 

I love you, Willy. More than a bus and sixteen million Octobers.

 

 

Momxo

Windows to the Soul

Posted on by
2
Grade 4

Grade 4

Five Years Old

Five Years Old

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grade 7

Grade 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

 

My Heaven on Earth

Posted on by
2
Will and Murray on Cannon Beach, Oregon. Summer 2010

Will and Murray on Cannon Beach, Oregon. Summer 2010

August 24, 2014

 

 

Dear Will,

 

It has been a full summer for me. A summer of short trips to Montana to spend time with friends and in between those, our two week holiday to Oregon to retrace our last summer holiday with you. It was a summer of fun times and, of course, some hard moments, too. Life after losing you has been full of figuring out our “new normal” and it sure hasn’t come without its share of intense sadness. How could it?

 

When Dad and I and Finn headed to Cannon Beach on the Oregon Coast we knew there would be countless bittersweets and as we’d expected, of course, there was. The memories I have of our last vacation with you are etched inside me like stone for it was on that very trip to the Oregon Coast that you saw the ocean for the first and only time. The abundant beauty in that part of the world is breathtaking and the memories I have of you in that special place are even more breathtaking.

 

Will and the Ocean

Will and the Ocean

We walked on the same beach and saw the same sights as we did with you in the summer of 2010. I remember the look of awe on your face when you saw the ocean for the first time and how you ran barefoot in the sand to the edge of a world new to you, anxious to feel the ocean on your toes. It was a special time, and one I am so grateful to have had. One never knows while visiting a place that it might be the last and though I was present in that moment, a part of me was already wondering where we’d vacation next and where and when you’d see the ocean again. That summer vacation was supposed to be another of the many we’d enjoy together. New adventures and new places awaited, life was good… and then the unimaginable happened and all of our dreams were shattered and broken. Wondering how we’d survive without you became our focus and thoughts of future summer vacations disappeared entirely.

 

Cannon Beach was everything I remembered and the clarity with which I saw it again was a beautiful déjà vu. How Haystack Rock stood so prominently just offshore, the miles and miles of sandy beach that stretched for as far as the eye could see in both directions, all the sea birds busy doing that swooping dance that they do, the numerous early morning walkers and runners, all the happy dogs in the most dog-friendly place I’ve ever been chasing birds and balls and catching frisbees, the sand castles and shovels and pails and the children of all ages that dug holes and filled pails with sand, colorful kites connected by string to dads, the shells and remnants thereof, the icy feel of the cold salt water as it enveloped my ankles…. It looked the same this visit as it did when we saw it together for the first time and a hundred years from now I imagine it will look no different. The timelessness of all that surrounds this beautiful place and the memories I have of you there will keep me wanting to visit again and again. While on the beach I would close my eyes and imagine you there – a vision I will cherish and hold onto for the rest of my days. It is quite literally my “heaven on earth” and what I imagine heaven for real will be like.

 

Dad and I talked endlessly of you on our travels this summer. That never changes. As the days turn into weeks, then months, and now years, it still seems like yesterday and forever that you were physically here with us. Our days continue to be full of thoughts of you in happier times; the innocent way you saw the world, the sound of your giggle, how you idolized your brothers and pushed their buttons, your genuine sensitivity and zest for fun, how you developed a style that became your own, and how you loved to be in the middle of everything we did. We spend our days honoring you in any way that we can and we do it passionately and with purpose because you are worth every minute.

 

IMG_1522I believe with all my heart that I will see you again and it is that belief that keeps me keeping on. When my days here come to an end I hope that the heaven you know will look just like my “heaven on earth”. I just know that you will be the first one I will see there. Until then, Will, you are my sun and my moon, the stars and a bus, and I love you as big as all that and more. I miss you bigger than big and long for that day when I will see you again.

 

Lulab,

 

Momxo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hood River and Bittersweets

Posted on by
2

 

Me and Dad, and Jim and Angie

Me and Dad, and Jim and Angie

Sunday, July 13, 2014

 

Dear Willy,

 

Last night Dad and I and Uncle Jim and Angie arrived in Hood River, Oregon to begin the part of our vacation that is so full of reminders of your last one with us. The sun was setting as we meandered along the I-84 following the flow of vehicles on the twisting and turning freeway that hugs the Oregon side of the Columbia River Gorge. The evening sky was an incredible mix of orange and pink and the steep gorge landscape provided a dark silhouette that enhanced the beauty tenfold. I was lost in the beauty of the magnificent sky knowing that our long drive would soon be done when Mt. Hood majestically appeared in front of us. Earlier in our drive along the Washington interstate the peaks of Mt Rainier and Mt Adams were faintly visible in the distance and because they were distant they reminded me of an Ansel Adams photo where the peaks become less and less visible as they are further and further away. It seems nothing can prepare me for the in-your-face beauty and immediate flood of memories of what you described as the “funnest” place on earth each time I see Mt Hood stretch up to the sky. I remember vividly that same feeling when we drove to Hood River last summer though the sting didn’t stay as long.  While planning our summer vacation I wondered if seeing Mt Hood again would conjure up tears and the same feelings…. and what I can say now is that it still did indeed take my breath away all the while stacking up another bittersweet in the string of memories that are so precious to me now; memories that I will hold onto until my final moments in this life.

 

Dad doing what he loves so very much in Hood River

Dad doing what he loves so very much in Hood River

We will spend a week here enjoying what this play place has to offer – windsurfing for Dad, some biking for the two of us, “ball” time with Finn, nice dinners in and out and relaxing in the heart of this funky, “feel good” town. In a week we will head west to Cannon Beach on the Oregon coast — a place that also holds special memories for us. Last summer we’d planned to also visit there but abruptly had to head home when we learned that Ben was ill and in the hospital. In hindsight adding a trip to the first and only place you saw the ocean may have been too much to endure. Coming back this year seems a bit easier and though I remember looking forward to seeing Cannon Beach last summer, it seems my heart will be able to better tolerate the first déjà vu feelings of being in that special place we visited in what unbeknownst to us at the time would be your last.

But for now, Will, I will savor my time here in Hood River with Dad and your Uncle Jim and Angie. The four of us (and Finn) will make new stories and share old ones. Dad and I will tell them of the summer fun you had skiing on the glacier and of the look of awe on your face when you first saw the vastness of the Pacific Ocean at Cannon Beach. And, of course, we will miss everything about you.

 

I love you, little blue. Bigger than a bus and more than how much you loved skiing on Mt Hood. Watch over us and laugh with us, Willy. And please comfort me in my quiet times when I am missing you too much to hold back my tears.

 

Momxo

 

The Afterglow of a Bike Ride

Posted on by
6

 

Will's Friends Ride For Will!

Will’s Friends Ride For Will!

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

 

Dear Will,

 

On Saturday, your Third Annual Ride For Will was held here in the community that was (and still is) your home. It was a beautiful day sandwiched between two rainy ones and my fingers were crossed, hopeful that you’d help out by keeping the rain away…. In the back of my mind I was preparing for a ten minute down pour at some point during the event, your signature “gotcha!” way of wanting to always have the last word, and in the end I was thrilled that you waited until we were safe inside.

 

Three years and three rides have yielded almost $150,000 to your Foundation and I am still awestruck at what happens on this day each June that we call The Ride For Will. People, young and old, show up with smiles and pledges, with hugs and support, not only to benefit your Foundation, but to honor you and show their support for Dad and I and your brothers. It is a memorable and most beautiful bittersweet day that renews our hope that you will never be forgotten. To me, there is something timeless about a bike. The simple pleasure it provides and the freedom it symbolizes is a right of passage in our neck of the woods for each and every child that grows up in this community. I will always remember the excitement that precluded any bike ride into Bragg Creek for icecream or candy and when you and your friends could do it without an adult ride-a-long, quite frankly, you’d hit the big time. Now, Will, your friends are driving to the city in their cars instead of packing their pockets with loose change to buy candy and icecream and that alone is difficult to accept at times. The passing of time is indeed a tough pill to swallow and I am quite sure it always will be.

 

What is magical about your Ride is that your friends and people who didn’t have the chance to know you show up with their bikes, adorned with WillPower bands, and I Ride For Will stickers on their helmets and bikes. They ride and stop at the refreshment stations and fill up on free candy and freeze pops, pedal to the school and back passing all of the familiar landmarks that were second nature to you. When I see your buddies on their bikes they magically become twelve again and though you aren’t there, YOU ARE. I am hopeful that you will always be with them in some way.  Whenever I see a boy on a bike, I am immediately thrown back into the many memories of you ripping out of the cul-de-sac with your pant leg tucked in your sock (if you weren’t wearing shorts!) in a hurry to meet a friend or two at the bike jumps or the soccer field or at a friend’s house to play. Those were the gifts of an ordinary day growing up here and memories that I will always treasure.

 

The Apres Ride BBQ and Silent Auction/Raffles that follow your Ride are amazing too. The love and support that shows up at our community Redwood House in burgers and icecream, in items donated for people to bid on and the lure of a raffle item is also magical. The entire day is beyond anything that I can describe and when I think back to three years ago how a few friends suggested and asked if they could organize a family bike ride for us in your memory I am overwhelmed at how it all started and how it has evolved and how it has continued…

 

It is no secret that you are in my thoughts every minute of every day, Will. My days begin and end with you and on Saturday, June 14th it was evident that you were on the minds of many who were there to support and remember and celebrate your life cut short. I know you were looking down on all of us with your big Willy smile and bluer than blue eyes. Since your tragic passing, it has always been our hope that something good could be born of something so tragic. There is healing for us knowing that in your memory what began as the simple pleasure of a bike ride has grown and taken on an identity of its own. The Annual Ride For Will allows us through your Foundation to make a difference in the world and that just feels right and feels good.

 

Now as I bask in the afterglow of Saturday’s Ride For YOU my heart feels a little lighter and oh, so full. You, little Blue, are quite a boy.

 

Love you like a bus on a bike, (and only you could make sense of that!)

 

 

Momxo

There is always love…

Posted on by
4

Photo from May 18, 2014-1Monday, 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

Mother’s Day and Handmade Love

Posted on by
2
Handmade Love from my Will

Handmade Love from my Will

Sunday, May 11, 2014

 

 

Dear Will,

 

Today is Mother’s Day and my heart is heavier than usual. This is my third Mom’s Day without you and I miss you as much as the first one — it certainly doesn’t get easier. I am sitting on my bed in my own little world staring out of the window at the blue sky I’ve waited days to see, and my head is swirling with thoughts of you. Mother’s Day holds such special meaning; a day where moms are universally celebrated and appreciated for all they do for their children and families. When I think of Mothers Days past my heart smiles at the extra love that would find its way to me via breakfast in bed, crafty gifts made at school and handmade cards that oozed love in their heartfelt and sometimes misspelled words; the drawings, the “coupons” that promised jobs sometimes too big to be true, but with intent so large – all a sign of how big that love was. Those cards will always be treasures for I have kept them all and the gift of all those uneven folds of paper are so incredibly priceless now. I feel sad knowing that today, again there will be one card missing.

 

Mother’s Day will never be the same without you here. I am so thankful for the big box of handmade cards, the table you made for me in grade 7, and the countless memories of cold toast, cereal, watered down coffee and smoothies in bed; of clay creations, glittery picture frames, yarn weavings, tissue paper flowers…

 

One thing will never change, Willy — I will always be your mom and you will always be my son/sun.

 

Lulab and missing you so very much,

 

 

 

Momxo

A Lazy Morning With and Without You

Posted on by
6
Our Little Blue… so many memories...

Our Little Blue… so many memories…

Good Friday, April 18, 2014

 

Dear Will,

 

It’s a(nother) dreary morning and because there is no place I need to be, there is no rush to climb out of bed. The only good I can find about this morning is that I have chosen to spend it with you. I lay here plumped up against pillows listening to Finn who has just jumped onto the bed for his regular morning visit and after he has unsuccessfully tried many of his nuances to get us up and downstairs he has given up and instead now lays beside me, stretched out, and snoring. Dad is on his side of our bed, reading quietly, seemingly also reluctant to get out of bed this morning. Writing to you seems just the right thing to do.

 

I remember how when you were little you’d sneak into our bed in the early mornings, climb in between Dad and I and wiggle your little body under the covers. I remember how you’d try to be quiet (?), how you’d try to put your little arms around my neck, but because they weren’t long enough they’d dangle uncomfortably in my eyes. I remember how I could feel your breath on my shoulder or my face and how sometimes you’d be so close I could feel your eyelashes brush ever so lightly against my skin. As you grew and as your brothers can attest to, the rule about crawling into bed with Dad and I changed to being able to build a nest beside our bed with no questions asked. We believed that no matter how big you were, if that’s where you needed to be then that’s where you needed to be. I remember so fondly the many early mornings and the many middle of the nights after a bad dream too, I’d hear you coming down the hall… the sound of you carrying and dragging all of your things from your room to our room, to my side of the bed where I’d wake, and in the darkness or early morning light I’d help you make your nest on the floor beside our bed. All the pillows you could find to lie on were carefully placed, then came your fluffy duvet pulled right off your bed, your little blanket (the one so shredded and torn that still gave you comfort into adolescence and that will always have a place in your memory box), sometimes a stuffy or two or ten and voila, the Willy nest was complete. Will, I swear there were times when your nest was more comfortable than our bed. I know this because I also remember as clear as if it were yesterday the many times when I’d snuggle with you in your nest on the floor for a few minutes before I’d crawl back into my bed.

 

I love these memories more than anything I own. But now as tears run down my cheeks I wish there were more. I wish I had memories of you into the next phase of your young life; a life that should have been but couldn’t be. Memories of you as a teenager I will never have. As a young adult and an adult there will be none. The many memories I do have are precious beyond anything I have because they are all I have. I know this to be true of all parents who have lost a child.

 

As I look out of my bedroom window having earlier watched the morning mist turn to rain and now the white fluffy stuff, I know it is you, Will, yet again letting us know you are here. It really is quite enough now, Willy. Please, please stop with the snow! A ray of sunshine, even a raindrop would be most welcome right about now. You know what they say, “it takes both the rain and the sun to make a rainbow” and though I look for you in all forms, a rainbow would be a most welcome Willy sighting right about now!

 

Love you, little blue. More than anything. Even a bus.

 

Momxo

Dreams and Wishes

Posted on by
6
My Pride. My Joy. My Boys.

My Pride. My Joy. My Boys.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Dear WillBilly,

On the eve of another “22nd day” of another month, of course you continue to be in my thoughts and like everyday I wish more than anything that you were here.  Tomorrow afternoon is an important day for your big brother, as he will receive his iron ring in a ceremony where engineering students in their final year of university take part in what is known as The Ritual of the Calling of an Engineer.  It’s been almost five years since Justin began his university studies towards his dream of obtaining a degree in mechanical engineering and almost three of them have been without you here.  You’d have been blown away, Will, by looking at the mind-boggling formulas and complexity of the assignments that he completed on a regular basis.  I couldn’t make sense of any of them and wasn’t ever sure if I was even looking at them right side up.  Justin would have been the best math tutor you could ever have and I wish I could have been witness to the two of you sitting at the kitchen table while he was helping you work through a math problem.  As his little brother, you’d have enjoyed it and Justin would have too.

I imagined that this afternoon after school you and I would have driven to the city on a mission to find something nice for you to wear tomorrow.  I wonder how tall you would be now and what size pants and shirt we’d have to buy?  And would you still be trying to convince me that your Vans would be ok with your pants and that no one would be looking at your shoes anyway?  I noticed myself pause and reflect as I typed that sentence, my head nodding up and down like you really did have a point.  Oh, what I’d have given to be in the stores with you this afternoon doing what I wish we’d have had a chance to do.

Come tomorrow morning I already know that my heart will be heavier than usual; that it’ll ache a little more because you won’t physically be with us on this special day.  Of course you’ll be with us in spirit; that I know with all my heart.  You’ll be sitting proudly on my left shoulder where all the boy angels sit and you’ll be inside my heart where you always are.  I already know that I will reach up and touch my left shoulder and that one or both of my hands will cup the heart necklace that is you.  I don’t even know how many times I find myself holding that heart pendant in my hands.  It happens frequently everyday.   As Dad and I and Ben proudly watch Justin tomorrow afternoon we know you’ll be there too… in the middle, of course, where you loved to be.

Oh Willy.  I will never understand why this tragedy happened to us.  I will forever feel so robbed of watching you live your dreams and of enjoying the life you so deserved here with us.  You, our youngest son and little brother to Justin and Ben will always be a part of our lives.  That will never ever change, but oh what I would do to be able to see you, to touch you, to hug you.

I love you, little blue.  Bigger than a bus.  And more than the sky.   I’ll be waiting and watching for the little wink I know you’ll send our way tomorrow while we watch Justin realize his dream of becoming an engineer and receive his much deserved iron ring.

Momxo