The Warm Side of the Window

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The blanket of Willy in our backyard

The blanket of Willy in our backyard

March 3, 2014

Dear Will,

February was a long month for me.  It’s been too cold to do much of anything outside lately, which seems to have magnified the too many days without you.  It is no secret that looking at the mounds and mounds (and mounds!) of snow makes me think of you.  Your presence is huge this winter and it is incredibly beautiful to take in the sight of the blanket of Willy that covers the ground in and around our community.  However, in these frigid temperatures after days of feeling imprisoned on the warm side of the window, I am anxious for the cold weather to leave.  Yesterday morning as I sat in the chair in front of the window that looks out at your snow-covered garden and our WillBilly tree, a quilt on my lap and my hands cupped around my mug of hot tea, I noticed the stiff, frozen branches of your tree waver in the wind… I want to believe it was you waving at me from the cold side of the window.

As I am writing to you now, on what is yet another “too cold to do anything outside” kind of day, I can’t help but notice the brilliant blue sky and the way the sunshine makes the snow sparkle; it’s like you’re winking at me.  Then there’s the untouched snow that blankets the trampoline making it look like a giant marshmallow.  That snow so deep and heavy has pulled the springs towards the ground making the jumpy part stretch and curve into what looks like a giant grin.  Yup, it’s you again.  I don’t imagine the weight of the snow can be good for the trampoline but the giant smile it has created makes my heart smile with it.  Hey, speaking of marshmallows… I am just remembering how you’d like to put one on a plate and slide it into the microwave for a minute.  It would puff up multiplying in size, seemingly taking on a life of its own… another one of those edible “science projects” and the topic of another letter I’ll write to you on another day, Will.  What I remember most about those microwaved marshmallows was how hard the gooey plate was to clean!

Anyways Will, as I’ve turned the calendar to March I am hopeful that the days won’t seem as long as some of the frigid February days we’ve had to endure as of late.  With the daylight hours (slowly) increasing and Spring-like weather on the horizon, soon being outside will be enjoyable again and knowing that puts a little bounce in my day.  I’ve lived in Alberta long enough to know that we’ve not seen the end of winter by any means but what I have come to expect once February has passed is that when we find ourselves in a cold snap, those deep freeze days don’t hang around for long.  Yuk, it is true the cold spell is still upon us but the forecast is for warmer weather to come our way in the next few days.  Until that happens, I will continue to look at the abundant beauty from the warm side of the window and I’ll continue to look for all the special winter Willy’s that are you.

Love you like a frozen bus with square wheels, Willy.  I am missing you terribly these past few weeks.  More so than usual… if that is even possible.

Momxo

The Little Blue Ball and You

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The little blue ball on the hard to reach ledge

The little blue ball on the hard to reach ledge

February 2, 2014

Good morning, my little star,

Each day as I make my way down the stairs to the main floor of our home (more times than not with dirty laundry in my arms) I am taken aback by the little blue ball that still sits way up high on the second story above the front door on the ledge under our front feature window.  How did it get there?  Well, I know that YOU know and I know that it wasn’t deliberately “placed” there as you can only reach that narrow ledge with an extendable ladder.  It “ended up” there as a result of a bad shot in the mini sticks hockey shoot-out that occurred regularly (sometimes, daily) on the landing at the top of the staircase to the second story of our house.  The place where the space opens up to a high ceiling, few walls, and a white wooden railing that was the only stopper to that little blue ball ending up downstairs on the floor… or, less likely, on the ledge above the door where it still sits.  I remember the countless times I asked that you boys take the game downstairs where it didn’t matter where or how the ball was hit; downstairs where I could close the door to the basement so I didn’t have to hear the play by play of each shot and the thunk, thunk, thunk, of feet running up and down the stairs to retrieve that little blue ball.

What I hear in my head now when I see that ball and what I remember more than anything else is the sound of boys giggling with delight at the simple fun of hitting a little blue ball (a ball soft enough that it couldn’t possibly damage anything) with little hockey sticks.  It’s quite remarkable how things that used to drive me crazy back then speak to me in such a different way now.  How I long for those days where listening to you and your friends, or you and your brothers, just simply laugh because you were having fun.  Its true that in between the laughter there were negotiations and arguments on fair play and sometimes stoppage of play because one of you would get hit with the stick and have to rub your hands together while jumping up and down to shake off the pain.  I also remember the same repeated question I’d get when I asked you to move the game downstairs… “awe, Mom.  Why?  We’re not wrecking anything and its “funner” here.  The shots are more fun when they can go further.”  When I’d respond with a more serious and stern voice that what I needed (wanted) was silence, then and only then, was there compliance.

the little blue ball

the little blue ball

Seeing that little blue ball now conjures up a different feeling.  And with it the yearning that if only I could have those days back, relive those precious moments where the sound of boys laughing and giggling was what really mattered, I’d take them back in a heartbeat.  I have no desire to retrieve that little ball from where it now sits because it is a reminder of you and that makes me smile.  It took a long time before my tears turned into smiles upon seeing that little ball but somehow even through the tears I knew that I didn’t want to take it down, that in time it would become another sacred memory of you.  And now that’s what it is.

From time to time  (ok, once) I had to maneuver the long, awkward (and scary) extendible ladder into the house and get my butt up there to dust that ledge.  That was a while ago and I’ll need to do it again soon, as the dust seemingly multiplies faster in the places where you can’t reach easily.  Once up there I put the little blue ball in the pocket of my sweatshirt while I “swiffered” the dust onto the floor below.  Before I carefully placed the ball in the exact same spot where it landed on that mini sticks game day, I cupped both my hands around it and brought it to my face.  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and planted a kiss on it as if it were your cheek.  That place is now home to that little blue ball.  And I’m pretty sure it always will be.

Love you, little blue (hah!).  More than a bus on top of a tall, hard to reach ledge.

Momxo

A New Year. And, I Am Here.

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My boys. My everything.

My boys. My everything. December 2004

January 11, 2014

Dear Will,

This is my first letter to you in 2014, and though you may be wondering why it took eleven days to finally put my words here…  well, Willy, it was just really hard for me.  I know what you’re thinking.  “Geez, Mom.  You were never at a loss for words.  Gosh, there were days when I wished it were so, but c’mon, Mom, this never happens to you!”  Truth is, I have thought about you every minute of every day; I have talked to you out loud, whispered your name, looked for you in the sky, in the snow, and in every nook and cranny of life.  Most times, Will, thankfully I found you staring right back at me.  I have taken you with me to Fernie and Montana and back, tucked you safely in my heart where you occupy an indelible space; a space every mother creates for her children when they go to heaven without their moms, no matter how old they are.  These past 11 days and the days over Christmas have been especially difficult.  I woke each day wondering if this might be the day that I could find the strength to put some happy words here… but day after day (even though I tried and tried) it just never worked.  As soon as I would open my laptop and type your name, my tears would fall and I would find myself paralyzed, staring at an empty screen.

This holiday season was our third without you and though I know that grief never follows a straight line from unbearably sad to sad, to a little bit sad, to a little less sad… I somehow wanted to believe, to hope, that maybe this year it would be a little easier.  Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong.  For me, Christmas without you was again unbearably sad.  Was it because I expected/hoped it would be a bit easier?  Maybe.  But then, how could it be?  I know in my heart of hearts that it will never be easier, never be less painful, or less empty.  What we’ve been told is that it will always be sad, but that we will get better at learning to live with the pain, the loss, the emptiness of not having you here.  Oh, like that makes it better?  Of course it doesn’t.

What I will focus on and remember is the wonderful things that we do in honor of you around the holidays.  How our tree is adorned with memories of you and of us spending our winters skiing in Fernie.  How your Christmas stocking, instead of being filled with gifts and goodies, sits underneath the most beautiful spray that is the centre of our Christmas dinner table.  The florist at the Farmers Market incorporated some of the blue and silver balls from the last two Christmas centrepieces into some cedar and evergreen boughs that hugged the same frosted hurricane vase with the white candle that is your light in the middle of all of us at Christmas.  Will, it was really beautiful.  (Thank you, Sandy).  How under the tree is a gift for each of us from you, our Santa now.  And how the last gift we open is a special family gift from you — always a jigsaw puzzle for us to work on together.  I’ve yet to open the box, but think I might just do that today.  Somehow seeing 1000 puzzle pieces spread out all over the dining room table and knowing that it’ll take us a month or two to complete finds me smiling.

There were some extra-special gifts under our tree this year and all were in honor of you, Will.  I’d chosen two of your t-shirts, one each that held special memories for your brothers.  For Ben, your black and gold LINE t-shirt, the one you’d won the summer you both went to Windell’s.  I remember Ben always saying that you’d win everything and that he was never that lucky.  For Justin, I chose your purple Fernie Freestyle Ski Club t-shirt.  You know the one… you had a few because you’d worn out the first one.  There are many pictures of you wearing this t-shirt under your flannel shirts.  It was part of the classic “Will uniform”.  Annette kindly sewed them into pillow covers (Thanks, Annette) and now your brothers have them on their beds.

Justin's gift to all of us. Amazing!

Justin’s gift to all of us. Amazing!

The other was a gift for each of us from Justin.  He insisted that his gift be the first one we opened on Christmas morning.  Inside his beautiful wrapping (he might need a little work on this?) each of us received a mug that Amy had made and the two of them had designed.  On each mug was the wolf that you’d drawn in kindergarten.  I was unaware that transposing a real image was even possible on a handmade piece of pottery and am still in awe that he would know how precious this gift would be to all of us.  They are priceless and I know I will treasure them forever.

The careful thought and love that we put into our Christmases without you is a beautiful testament to you and how much we miss you and love you.  As your mom, I am so proud.  You and Dad and your brothers are my everything and I couldn’t love any of you more than I already do.  Nana and Pa shared Christmas with us this year and that was really special, too.  It was quiet and had its share of laughter and tears like every Christmas going forward undoubtedly will.

New Years was again sad all over again.  Though I tried to be more social this year, I found myself alone in my bed before the stroke of midnight wishing more than anything that the pillow I was holding was you.  As midnight approached I could see the fireworks light up the darkness, hear them explode with loud bangs.  I could hear the music and the laughter and the words “happy new year” being shared from one to another outside the window.  Where I found comfort was snuggling with Dad and my pillow under the covers with my eyes closed remembering how much you loved staying up till all hours on this magical night to ring in a new year.  I’ll try again next year and maybe it will be different.  Or maybe it won’t.  It will only be what it will be.  But for now, the holiday has passed and I’ve settled once again into my routine.  I am back at school, back in my community, back amongst friends and family where I can be me; where it feels safe to shed a tear or two, even when asked one of the questions I dread most this time of year, “How was your Christmas?”

So now, here I am 11 days in to 2014 and I am here.  I know you are here with me, too, Will.  There are gobs and gobs of snow outside; the biggest blanket of Willy we’ve had in a long time!  Is it a coincidence that Mr. Blue Sky has just played on the radio?  Maybe.  But I know it’s you.  And earlier this morning, I found a loonie and two quarters in the couch cushions while looking for my knitting needle.  Another coincidence?  Maybe.  But again, I know it’s you.  I think I will open that jigsaw puzzle today.  Help me, Will, I think this one’s gonna be a doozy.

Love you, little blue.  Like a bus and the beauty of every single, magical snowflake.

Momxo

Thanks, Willy

Thanks, Willy

Our Christmas Memory Tree

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December 21, 2013

Dear Will,

Christmas is almost here and though I am trying to focus on the good things that will be part of our Christmas this year, memories of you and our Christmases past are the only things that occupy my mind.  I go through the motions but just past my eyelids are tears that I have been trying so hard to suppress.  This morning is different.  It is quiet in the house; I’m the only one up, I’ve made myself a cup of tea, turned on the lights on the Christmas tree and now I can let my tears fall.   I sit here wanting only to spend some time with you.

Will's Santa Hat

Your Santa Hat

As daylight is beginning to show its face, I stare at our tree and all the memories of you that adorn it.  Since your angel date our Christmas tree has become a Memory Tree.  Instead of the angel that we used to put on top, we have placed your Santa hat.  I smiled while putting it up there looking at the way you printed your name with a sharpie on the inside when you were in kindergarten.  The bigger the space, the bigger you printed.  Your name is really just a bunch of sticks and being the third child we chose a name that, of course, we loved and was meaningful, but at the same time was going to be easy for you to print when you were little and beginning school.  Will (not William) was perfect for so many reasons!

There are tiny white twinkly lights from top to bottom and on each branch is a Fernie family ski pass; all five of us from all the years we were Fernie pass holders.  You and your brothers have been Fernie pass holders all of your lives and as I look at the photos on each pass I remember so many fun times.  The photos on these (expensive) little pieces of plastic are a chronological record of how each of you have grown and changed from year to year; from tots to big boys and Justin and Ben, now young men.  There is one of you that is all bent and I smile remembering it was the one that you didn’t remove from your ski pants before throwing them in the dryer (one of those wet snow days!) and it had begun to melt from the high heat.  When I look closely, Will, I notice you weren’t the only one that forgot…

For the last two Christmases I have added three ornaments each year to signify you and your brothers.  The first year I found three white sparkly stars.  I wrote your names on each of the stars and hung them in the same order as your star on Orion’s belt in the Orion Constellation.  Sandy and Don Bietz (your kindergarten teacher and her husband) dedicated this star to you after your angel date so it made perfect sense that I put three stars on our tree.

My Three Stars

My Three Stars
You, Justin, and Ben

You are in the middle and Justin and Ben are on each side protecting you.  I have to tell you (and I’m pretty sure you’ll find this funnier than I did !*?#) that when I came home from work a couple of weeks ago, the three stars were on the ground.  The string of tree lights was askew and had been pulled across the carpet.  The cord was chewed through and a couple of the bulbs were missing (we have new lights now).  Finn!  I panicked while Finn skulked out of the living room with his head down low and his tail between his legs.  Little bugger… he knew he’d done wrong.  What I was worried about most were the three stars.  When I picked them up both of your brother’s stars were chewed on the ends but yours was perfect.  They are all back on the tree in the order I’d originally put them.  Perhaps next Christmas I’ll smile remembering that story but it’s a very small smile now.  Last year I hung three snowflakes and this year three glittery peace signs.

Your hand-sewn Gingerbread Boy

Your hand-sewn Gingerbread Boy

Here and there I hung the Christmas ornaments that you made in school and up high (where Finn could not possibly reach or see) I placed amongst the branches the brown felt gingerbread boy that you had hand-sewn and stuffed when you were in grade 2.   All are Priceless handmade memories that I value more than anything.

Nana and Pa will come and spend Christmas with us this year and that will be special.  That makes me smile but I wish more than anything that you were here, too; that you’d be with us in your pajamas on Christmas morning.  Like the last two Christmases, Willy, under the tree will be the last gift that we unwrap — a new jigsaw puzzle from you to us.  A gift that will give us hours and hours of family time while we remember you and how much we miss you and love you.

Happy Heavenly Christmas to you up there, Will.  I know you’ll be looking down on us and that in many ways you’ll be with us on this favorite holiday of yours.

Missing you so much… and love you like a bus.

Momxo

Stuck in the Snow With Nowhere To Go

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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

Stung Again

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Will with Jamie and Lauren, at the precious age of 12

Will at twelve, with Jamie and Lauren

Friday, November 22, 2013 (2 ½ years)

Hey Will,

It’s late and I can’t sleep.  The clock on my bedside table marks the last few minutes of another 22nd day of the month and it stings like all the others.  I felt it when I woke this morning.  There was a sluggishness about getting out of bed, about having to go through the motions of this day; another day where it would take a little more effort to put one foot in front of the other. And so after a few minutes of staring out of the window at the sun just beginning to give light to the day I got up and dawdled to the shower. It’s always so easy to cry there; the tears run to the tips of my toes not just down my cheeks to be wiped away with a tissue or my sleeve. Today these tears were as necessary and natural as washing my face and brushing my teeth; tears that have become a routine part of the 22nd day of every month.

When I pulled into the parking lot at school this morning I whispered your name and asked you to help me hold it together today and it worked, Will!  I worked through my day with a smile, but it did sting a little each time I saw the date written on a student’s paper, each time I saw it on a computer screen, each time I saw it written on the whiteboard in every classroom I walked into today, but I’ve come to expect it and so its a little easier when I know its going to sting instead of being taken aback or surprised. That feels more like a punch to the stomach and though that still happens from time to time it is a little less now.  Sadly, to me that can only mean that more time has passed and that I’ve gotten used to what it feels like to be punched in the stomach.  I was working with a grade seven boy who was celebrating his twelfth birthday today and that stung too.  Looking at him took me back to your grade seven year and to you being twelve and how it stopped there.  “Twelve” is yet another word that stings.

The next 22nd day of the month will be 3 days before Christmas and that one will sting more; more like one of those punches to the stomach.  As Christmas approaches the tears will multiply and getting out bed will become more difficult. This I know now and there is no stopping the wave of sadness that lasts throughout the holiday season.  It’ll never be right, never be ok that you’re not physically here with us.  It just is what it is and sadly nothing can change it.  I do feel your presence with us spiritually but oh how I miss seeing you, touching you, smelling you.

Thanks for helping me get through the day, Will.  And thanks for letting me know that you are with me on this new day, the 23rd day of November.  I woke this morning and the first thing I did before getting out of bed was reach for my iPad on the bedside table to re-read my letter. I opened the Songza app and the first song that played was “Mr. Blue Sky”.  I’ll take that as a sign that you are here with me and it made me smile.  It’s no secret that you are my little Mr. Blue Sky; you always will be.

Love you like a bus,

Momxo

Poppies in Heaven

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Poppies in Heaven

November 11, 2013

 

Dear Will,

Today is Remembrance Day.  The day we wear a red poppy and remember all who sacrificed their lives so we can live in a country free of war.  I think of the families and the sadness they have had to endure, the loss of their loved ones… fathers, sons, grandfathers, daughters, etc. and the choice they made to serve our country so we can enjoy freedom.  Freedom that sometimes I think we take for granted and shouldn’t.

I think about the Remembrance Day assemblies at school and how touching and beautiful they were and continue to be.  I remember when you were here and how the school assembly would sometimes bring me to tears as I watched you and your friends, and your brothers when they were still at Banded Peak, pay tribute to our Canadian soldiers.  I remember explicitly how you could go from being a rambunctious, fun-loving boy who needed to be “gently” reminded at every assembly to settle down, to be quiet, to listen… to needing no reminders at the Remembrance Day assembly.  How you’d sit on the gymnasium floor with your eyes and ears wide open taking in the words, the music, the message.  I remember how proud I felt of you and of everyone in our school for being attentive and respectful when it was so important.  This assembly is still one of my favourites, Will, as it renews my sense of faith in people, young and old, and gives me a chance to really appreciate the country we are so fortunate to call home.

You must know, Will, that at every school assembly my eyes always find their way to your school jersey (your favourite number, 8) that is framed so beautifully above the volleyball banner that the school team you were a part of won the year you were taken from us.  It hangs there with the words “WillPower” above it as a tribute to you.  Each time I look at it I am reminded of the good in people, of the love that is abundant in our community but also of the fragility of life.  At the Remembrance Day assembly I shed a tear for all who had lost their lives fighting for freedom and I shed a tear for you knowing that you lost your life having the time of your life.  Now, if that’s not an oxymoron…

I miss you, Will; all day everyday, and all the soldiers in heaven have loved ones who are missing them too.  Can you do me a favour?  When you see a soldier up there, please take their hand and say “thank you”.  I can just imagine you up there sporting a big, red poppy today.  Just like me down here.  And that makes me smile.

Hugs and busses,

 

Momxo

The Gift of a Photo

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Friends Forever: Calvin and Will at age 5

Friends Forever: Calvin and Will at age 5

October 27, 2013

 

 

Dear Will,

 

Last night Dad and I went to the Lovenuik’s for dinner.   Your winter ski bud and summer beach bud, Calvin, was there too, choosing a night at home instead of a night out with his friends.  It was really great to see him, Will… though I wished more than anything that you were with us and that you and Calvin could have been hanging out together like it just should be.  I remembered when the two of you first met – at the daycare at the base of the ski hill in Fernie — ski buddies before you even knew how to walk.  The two of you, only 3 weeks apart in age, became great friends seeing each other every weekend during the winter months in Fernie for almost all of your “much too short” life.   Winters full of dinners and play dates, swimming at the aquatic centre and building snow forts on the Lovenuik’s front lawn until you boys were frozen or wet or it was time to go home to bed.  On many of those weekends, you and Calvin would go from building a snow fort outside to building a nest in the linen closet inside where the two of you would sleep.  I find myself both smiling and shaking my head as I write this, wondering how the heck that could have been comfortable.  Then, in the same breath, I remember that for boys, “fun” seems to always trump “comfortable”.

 

As the two of you grew not much changed.  Sure, your little one piece ski suits became trendy ski jackets and cool pants, your skis got longer, your feet grew bigger, and building snow forts turned into building ski jumps.  You no longer needed your dads to take you swimming for you were old enough to go on your own, the Disney DVDs disappeared replaced by endless hours of watching ski movies over and over and over.  Your friendship circle grew too, encompassing more boys your age, all of them members of the Fernie Freestyle Ski Team; boys that became part of a world that you loved so much.  Ski movies, stickers, ski mags, toques, posters, park passes and helmet cams became the norm.  What never changed though and what I believe would still be true was how much the two of you enjoyed each other’s company and how much your friendship meant to one another.

 

Seeing Calvin last night and how much he has grown is another bittersweet for me.  (You’d love his hair, Will!)  But, what I will never forget is what he gave to Dad and I after dinner.  He’d come from his bedroom with a photograph (the one above); a photo of the two of you when you guys were about 5.   Two little boys, hamming it up for the camera and as I looked at it my heart went back to that time and to that happy place.  This photo is a treasure; a gift so precious; a gift that’s worth can only truly be understood by a parent who has lost a child.  Sadly, there are no recent photos of you, the last one taken the day before the accident.  Photos of your 12½ years, though they will never be enough, are all we have now and each time I see one that I haven’t seen before my heart wants to take a picture of it so it will always be there.  I will always appreciate another photo, another story, another remembrance of you.  More memories for the memory box that will never be full enough.  Which makes me think… maybe I should put it out there to all who knew you to please share any photos of you that they may have.  All of them are treasures and memories that would mean the world to us.

 

It was nice to spend an evening with good friends and to see your friend, Calvin, too. I am ever grateful for the “gift of you” that he sent us home with.

 

Love you little blue.  Like a bus.

 

 

 

Momxo

 

Fifteen Candles and Four Balloons

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Will's 12th Birthday

Will’s 12th Birthday

October 14, 2013

Dear Will,

Today is your birthday and another one we will celebrate without you.  You’d be 15 years old today and I can’t help but wonder what you would look like?  Handsome as ever I already know, but it’s not enough.  Yup, your eyes would still be blue as ever, but would your hair be short or long?  Long, I am guessing, like your brothers and whatever Ben had you’d want to have too.  How tall would you be?  Well, taller than me for sure for you were almost as tall as me 2 ½ years ago.  You were on your way to being tall like Justin.  Loud and proud?  Oh yeah.  Would you still be super athletic and active?  I think so.  Big feet?  Oh yes. Your feet were already big.  I wonder what your voice would sound like now?  I still remember clearly what it sounded like at 12 ½ but you missed the phase of squeaks and intermittent highs and lows that come with being a teenage boy and a man cub.  There are many things I don’t know now; things I can only imagine to be true about you.  I imagine that you’d still love bacon, and ribs, and candy.  But, would Skittles still be your favourite?  I’m not sure, but I doubt very much that you would ever say no to a handful of candy in any form!  I imagine winter would still be your favourite season and snow still your favourite “toy” because freestyle skiing was so much a part of you.

Will's 6th Birthday. With his big brothers, Justin and Ben

Will’s 6th Birthday.
With his big brothers, Justin and Ben

Today I will set the table and tie four helium balloons to your chair — two green (your favourite color) and two blue (the color of your eyes).  We will light a white candle and place it in the middle of the table and we will honor you with what we imagine you would still love.  As we have done and will continue to do for everyone in our family on their birthday, we will have your favourite meal.  I will make ribs and remember how I’d have to remind you that dinner was more than just a plate FULL of ribs.  I’ll smile remembering how you’d negotiate taking the smallest amount of vegetables and rice or potato to keep me quiet.  We will have an angel food cake with whipped topping and strawberries and remember and laugh at how you’d only want the cake part, no topping, and perhaps maybe a few strawberries.  I shake my head and smile now remembering how, away from the dinner table, you’d flatten and squish a piece of that cake into a bite-sized morsel and how you’d say you just loved it that way.  How coincidental it seems now that your favourite cake was angel food?  Hmmm.  We will light fifteen candles and blow them out making our own wish — our wish that you were here so that we could sing happy birthday to you and wish you many more.  All the stuff that we took for granted back then and no longer do.  We’d shower you with gifts and handmade cards and watch you open the others from your grandparents and extended family.  Now there are no gifts and cards. Instead, Dad and I and Ben and Justin will write you a personal message and each of us will tie it to one of the helium balloons on your chair. After your cake we will go outside and on our own time and in our own little space in the backyard we’ll let them go, sending our love and our wishes up to you. Watch for them Will and please make the stars appear a little brighter and give them a special sparkle tonight so we know that you got them.

Miss you little blue.  My heart aches more than usual today…if that is even possible.

Momxo

October Days and Little Boy Arms

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Little Boy Arms

Little Boy Arms

October 6, 2013

Dear Willy,

Well, here it is again.  October; your birth month and one of the most difficult for me. No month is easy by any means, but October conjures up so many memories of you.  For most of your much-too-short life as soon as I turned the calendar to October the conversations would begin… “Mom, my birthday is in 14 days!”  And in the next breath, “can we plan my birthday party?  How many friends can I invite?  Can they all sleepover?  Ok. Well, can some sleepover?”  Today, remembering these conversations that would begin at the beginning of October every year now make me cry.

I think back to that very special day in October 1998; to the 14th day of the month when you made your debut into this world.  You, my youngest son, were pure joy from the moment Dad and I found out that we were blessed with another son.  An easy pregnancy, an easy delivery (easy to say now!?), and such a happy and beautiful baby boy with your blonde curly hair and blue eyes. It was one of the happiest days in my life, for sure.  Having you felt like everyone in my world was now here and that my kitchen table was supposed to have five people occupy the chairs that were tucked in around it.  For the first time, I could honestly say that it felt like my family was complete. I took much pride, and still do, in being a mother to three boys. Little Nan, (papa’s mom and my grandmother) was also a mother of three boys and I always thought it was so special.  And now I, too, was a proud mama bear to three cubs.  One of the things I loved the most about all three of you, was the feel of your little boy arms around my neck and even at 12 ½ your arms, the smallest of the three of you, gave me such comfort. Right up until your angel date, I loved the tuck-me-in goodnight hugs we still shared regularly.  I don’t ever want to forget those hugs, Will, for there is just nothing quite like them.

Remembering the joy you brought to all of us on the day you were born and the happiness that you brought to our lives as you grew now feels so empty and when October comes around it is especially heartbreaking. It is like you were stolen from me and I am left now with only memories of you as a boy on the cusp of becoming a teenager and a time you were looking forward to so very much.  Watching your two older brothers navigate through the teenage years gave you insight into the freedoms and privileges that were coming your way; learning to drive, girls, girls, girls, summer jobs and spending money of your own, later curfews and later bedtimes.  You certainly didn’t choose to see the “not so fun” parts like more homework, negotiations with Dad and I that wouldn’t always go as you’d hoped, losing privileges, being grounded, etc.  It was just like you to find the fun parts wherever you were.

So, as I watch each of these October days come and go and as your birthday approaches I must continue to find the strength to carry on somehow. I know there will be days when grace will be lost; days where it will take all I have to just get out of bed. And then to my amazement there will be days, too, that I will somehow find a smile, feel you with me, and that I will celebrate having had you for as long as I did, even though it was much, much too short. There is not a day, Will, that I wish the outcome would have been different and that you were here with us saying, “Mom, my birthday is in 14 days!  Can we plan…”

I believe it is you giving us these warm and sunny fall days and I am grateful.  I imagine it is your way of giving me those little boy hugs I miss so very much.  Beautiful October days… and little boy arms.  Thank you, Will.

I miss you to the moon and love you like a bus.

Momxo