It’s Halloween today and one of your favourite days of the year. What could be more perfect than a sack full of candy and a bona fide chance to be silly ALL day?! A definite shoe-in for an almost perfect WillBilly day… the only thing missing would be snow. And guess what? …when I woke up this morning it was snowing! But you already know this, don’t you, Will, because I believe that maybe, just maybe that unexpected, little blanket of white on the grass and on the roads this morning was you, wasn’t it? I took it as a sign that you wanted to remind us that you are here today in some way and I have to also say that I love that you also showed your little Mr. Blue Sky side and melted the snow before the trick-or-treaters came out this evening.
Dad and I were unsure of what to do tonight, thinking it would be really difficult for us to answer the door and hand-out candy when all we could think about was that you should be out there too, with your buddies, going door to door for the big candy haul. The two questions we wrestled with were 1) what can we do to lessen our pain today and 2) what would you have wanted us to do? Well, we answered both questions and put the big Halloween bucket on the front porch with heaps of candy (little chocolate bars and tootsie rolls) and a note that said “please share the fun and only take one… or two”. Then Dad and I and Ben met Justin at Earl’s in Westhills and we shared a lovely dinner together. We talked fondly about how you’d have made it to every home in Redwood again this year and that your pillowcase of candy would have been it’s fullest and heaviest ever. We laughed about the ritual of coming in at the end, tired from walking, but high on sugar and excitement, and how you and your brothers would empty your candy onto the floor in the middle of the living room to begin the sort ritual while Dad would try to steal your favourites. And then the candy rationing would begin and last for days and weeks and sometimes months. Sometimes some (ahh, lots) would even end up in the garbage. Oops, I must confess, Willy. Surely candy can’t last forever without going stale and seriously how much candy does one really need?!
Halloween is difficult. Another hallmark Willy day because you loved it so much. Halloween will never be the same without you here. Halloween without you is like salt without pepper, or peanut butter without jam. It will never be right.
Love you, Will. You were missed by so many today and mostly by us.
Momxo
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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
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Your eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. Yes indeed, they were the windows to your soul.
On the day you were born I will always remember how perfect you were. I counted your 10 fingers and 10 toes but I recall clear as day being drawn to what would become your signature — your eyes. Those beautiful, blue, little windows to the soul as evident then as they were every day of your too short, full to the brim life.
When you entered the world and the doctor placed you in my arms it was your eyes that got me — your little blue eyes, squinting as you took in the newness of the world — a tad brighter on the outside then it was inside the cramped quarters of my belly. Through tears of joy and the intense love I felt at that moment when I would finally meet my little prince, it was through those little, blue wondering eyes that I saw your soul. It seemed that as you grew, the bluer your eyes became and then those eyelashes arrived! It seemed so unfair that a boy would be so blessed with the eyelashes every girl dreamed of having.
Your eyes told great stories, Will. Stories of wonderment and adventure, of lessons learned and of the sometimes trouble you’d find yourself in, of the mischief you’d pitch and of the love that you believed could conquer everything (and it did). Your eyes could smile and laugh too and, of course, they could also spill big alligator tears when you were sad or hurt. I will always cherish how telling they were — how with one look at your eyes I knew how you were feeling (and, I might add, if you were telling the truth).
One thing that always got me was how you’d draw me in with your eyes and when you had my attention how you’d flare your nostrils in and out, in and out until I couldn’t help but laugh or lose it. This was a Willy tactic for sure and you’d use it frequently…. Most times when I was angry with you or when I needed your attention. I also recall that it became a Ben “button pusher” and was as annoying to him as the tried and tested “copy everything you say” strategy to have him want to pound you. Funny thing, Finn our big brown dog does it too. I swear it’s you, Will. He draws me in through his eyes just like you did and once he’s got me, BAM, the nostril-flaring thing begins. It gets me every time.
When I look at photos of you I am still drawn to your blue eyes. In some of the photos like the one Mary shared with me recently (the one above) I feel like you are staring at me and I feel your big love.
Your beautiful blue eyes are unforgettable, Will. Those beautiful blue eyes. No question, they were the windows to your soul.
I love you, Little Blue.. More than everything and a bus and a blue sky the colour of your eyes.
Momxo
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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!
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
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As I’m sure you already know, your Grade 7 teacher (Mrs. Harford) has joined you on the other side and I wonder if you may have been one of the five or so people that met her in heaven? She was so lovely in so many ways and was a teacher that had begun to make a real difference in your learning of important life skills.
She had some real “mom like” qualities and was determined to teach you that amongst the obvious academics, you needed to know the importance of good organizational and strong time management skills. Stuff that I, as your mom, tried to teach you and your brothers over and over and over… A few things that Mrs. Harford had over me were 1) she wasn’t your mom, 2) she didn’t see how well you could dig in your heels, and 3) she was so lovely all of the time.
One thing you did super well was to present what you thought most important to a 12 year old boy and as I look back, YOUR grade 7 real world perspective was important. Well, most of it…
Friends and sleepovers and the importance of a bike and a pair of skis… A voice that always mattered and a warm bed… Help with homework and a ride to all those early morning practices… Age appropriate freedom like biking to school and ripping down to the park on your skateboard…Eating cookie dough and choosing your own new shoes, icecream and marshmallow science (when I wasn’t home), sitting ON Dad and a before bed tuck-in.
All these things were so important to you and though I didn’t buy in to candy before dinner and chocolate before bed you didn’t seem hungry when an apple or banana was the option, nor were you receptive to the word “no” even when “yes” was out of the question. (This is where Mrs. Harford didn’t see how well you could dig in your heels.) Grade 7 — a time when you were really coming into your own.
On Wednesday afternoon Mrs. Fisher sat beside me on the couch in front of our big living room window and as we shared tears and talked about Mrs. Harford’s battle with cancer she exclaimed mid-sentence, “look, it’s snowing? It’s Will!” The uncanny thing about this scenario is that it was +8 C and it should have been impossible for it to snow, but it did. You have taught me that nothing is impossible in heaven and so it was at that moment we agreed that you and Mrs. Harford had just met each other on the other side. Crazy? I think not. Why? Because you have taught me so much about the other side and what it’s like there. How else can one even try to explain snowflakes on a warm, sunny, spring day?
I hope that you were on your best behavior on Wednesday and that weren’t talking out of turn. Were you tidy and organized and on time? I know you may not have had matching socks or combed your hair (really, I can’t even remember a time when that actually happened down here, but you had that kind of hair!). All this aside, I do imagine that you had the biggest smile and that your bright, blue eyes and zest for fun showed her that you’d make it feel like some of the best parts of her life up there — in heaven where the skies are always blue and there is no such thing as cancer.
Love you sweet Will. Like a bus carrying the five or so people that met Mrs. Harford in heaven. Stay close to her, Will. She still had so much to teach you.
Momxo
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May is heavy. The heaviest of all the months for me. It is weighted with undeniable sadness, with silent tears, with the unendurable pain of losing you and with the loss of our own lives as we knew it almost 10 years ago. 10 years on May 22nd. Wait… sometimes it still feels like yesterday. And yet in the deepest part of my heart I know you are still with us. I still see and hear you – though in different realms. And Willy, I continue to feel your presence every day because it is just impossible not to.
Every May I place the book I compiled of your Celebration of Life on our coffee table in our living room and after re-reading every word over and over, year after year I think I almost have them memorized. To this day I am deeply grateful for the heartfelt messages and stories captured on that day and if I didn’t fully comprehend what a treasure it would be to be able to re-read them year after year I surely know now. As part of my lifelong healing, in those first few months I assembled every word spoken, every lyric sung and every memory shared into a book so that I would have it in one place, in something I could hold in my hands and revisit on a whim and, of course, every May. I am ever grateful for the blessings and tributes written and shared by cherished friends and family and appreciate the support and the heartfelt love that we continue to receive even still.
As I was re-reading “your book” this morning I wanted to share one of the tributes with you. I know you heard every word that John spoke at your celebration all those years ago but they made my heart smile this morning and they capture your essence in a way that was/is so “you”.
Here’s John’s words…
John Griffin Tribute
THE LITTLE BIG MAN
I have been asked to speak today on behalf of all the friends of the Bouchard family. Considering how many of us here today share a close friendship with Murray, Joni, Justin, Ben & Will, it is hard to know where to begin. I can safely say though that we all share memories of happy times, that will last forever. Much of what I can say speaks of our family’s countless memories that we have shared with such a wonderful family.
Our family has known the Bouchard’s since they moved to Redwood Meadows in 1996, a couple of years before Will arrived. It seems as if we’ve known them forever. However, many of their friends here today share memories with Murray & Joni that go far beyond that.
I know all of us are at a loss for words right now. How can you not be? But when you really take the time to celebrate Will’s life today, the countless memories we have are comforting, and even heart warming. I know that the Bouchard family would love nothing more than to know that we all focus our thoughts today on the memories of a playmate, a ski buddy, a classmate, a brother, and a son who made the world and the lives he touched a better place. Memories can never be taken away. Let me share a few.
I’m not sure how many of you have done the “kid exchange” thing with another family, but it’s a great system….one couple gets away by themselves, while all the kids get to hang out in the same house together for a few days. And then you repeat the event a couple of months later. Everybody wins!! My wife Nancy & I shared this arrangement on many occasions with the Bouchards.
I will never forget when Will stayed with us for a few days when he was just a little guy. He refused to wear anything but his Spiderman underwear. The problem was, Nancy & I didn’t know the rules of how he wore them, and it resulted in many tears for little Will. You see, he wanted the underwear on inside out, with the Spiderman picture pointing in so when he lifted out the waist band, he could look down and see Spiderman’s face. He was not a happy camper.
It is so appropriate that Murray & Joni chose the name Will. Not only was it a great name, there were so many nicknames that could come as a result of it, “Willbilly” being one. As a little guy, Will was an explorer, hence the nickname “Willy the Wanderer”. Will decided one day when he was about 2, that he needed to go on a walkabout. After a frantic search by many, Will was found on the banks of the Elbow River by a dog and his walker.
Many of us in Redwood Meadows remember the commotion during one of our local ball tournaments. “Willy the Wanderer” decided to climb into the family van which was parked by the ball diamond, with the keys in it, and proceeded to lock the door. I can’t quite remember how we eventually got him out, but I do know that the process lasted a couple of hours, and Will had spent every tear he had in him. On that day, he was known as “Free Willy”.
You may think that Will was always an adventure seeking child, living life on the edge. Well, I would like to dispel that myth. Of the countless memories we have sharing happy times with the Bouchard family, at the top of the list are the houseboat trips we took together on Shuswap Lake over 3 consecutive summers, from 2002 through 2004. They were, without a doubt, the best of times.
For the first 2 trips, when Will was 3 & 4, he did not let the waters of Shuswap Lake touch his feet. This had nothing to do with a dislike of water, but had everything to do with the creatures that lurked under the surface, otherwise known as fish. He spent most of his days in the hot tub, getting out occasionally to drop his drawers to his ankles and pee between the bars on the upper deck.
Unfortunately for poor Will, there were a couple of incidents that didn’t help his courage. On one of our trips we decided to explore the recently discovered cave of the infamous “Bushman of the Shuswap”. Will of course did not join us on that venture, but just the thought of the Bushman ensured that he had nightmares for the rest of the trip.
Just as he was beginning to overcome his fear of those fish creatures in the lake, didn’t the other kids happen to catch one. Will was actually quite fascinated by the sight of it, and stood by the counter as I prepared our catch for dinner. With his eyes at about level with the counter, I proceeded to chop the head off as Will stared in disbelief. I think it prolonged his fear of water for yet another year, and to this day he never ate fish.
I’m sure anyone who has been on a houseboat trip has had some misadventures, and tales to tell. Over 3 trips, we certainly had many. But the one that tops them all is the time that Nancy & Murray actually lost the houseboat. Will, known as “Wilson” at the time, ended up stranded on a deserted beach with a few other castaways. Fortunately for “Wilson”, who then became “Willigan”, Joni & I executed a successful rescue & recovery of all involved, including the houseboat.
The name that I will forever remember Will by though is the “Little Big Man”. It fit perfectly for Will. He was a smaller than average boy, growing up in a family with brothers 5 and 10 years older who he adored and looked up to. He tried so hard at times to be bigger than he was, and keep up with the older boys, and at times he pulled it off. Deep down though, he was a softie, who would gladly switch from being the “Little Big Man” to cuddling with his Mom. He was famous for his hugs and affection, and loved painting rocks with Joni.
Our daughter Kathleen and Will shared a very close friendship, and never tired of each other’s company. They preferred not to call each other friends, but would rather be referred to as brother & sister. Kathleen would willingly take part in full on wrestling, while Will would gladly succumb to Kathleen’s world of imagination. As so-called siblings, they shared their fair share of disagreements. When Kathleen reached her limit, you commonly heard the “Will, Will” scream, followed by shouts of “What the Heck Kathaleen” in that distinctive Will voice.
Many of Will’s summers began at Whispering Pines campground on Mara Lake with several families that are here today. I have seen many photos from these trips, and have heard many stories of those happy times. Some of his closest pals were part of those vacations, and they will miss the close friendship they shared with Will.
And then there’s Fernie. The “big man” that Will looked up to more than anyone else was his Dad. Fortunately for Will, he had more opportunities to share in Murray’s passion for skiing than most get to experience in a lifetime. I know there are many here today that will find it hard to replace the companionship of their ski buddy. If you are one of those powder pals of Will’s, and you look ahead to the ski seasons yet to come, remember to take some time on an epic Fernie day, and think of Will. Take him down that run with you, and give him the ride of his life. He will be smiling with you all the way.
Murray, Joni, Justin & Ben. On behalf of all of your friends, we are heartbroken, and can’t imagine how difficult this must be for all of you. There are so few words that we can say that can help make sense of this. I truly believe that Will’s spirit lives on. You have provided him with a wonderful life in a loving home and raised him in an incredible community. I do believe he is still smiling that sweet smile, still laughing, and spending his days in a paradise that is beyond the one that he shared with us. Forever young.
We all want to thank you, Murray & Joni, for accepting our love and support. Your community of friends has been drawn together through a love for Will. You need to know that we will continue to be there for you in the days, and years ahead. You have so many dear friends that want to help you on your journey, and I know you know that. I can think of so many times when it was you reaching out to help others. Now it’s our turn to reach out to help you.
Oh, how special you are, my sweet boy. No wonder I miss you so much. I hope you never underestimate how “big” your life was to us down here. Please continue to shine your little, big light down on those of us who continue to celebrate every day of the 12 1/2 years we had with you.
I love you beyond words, WillBilly. Like that big bus we always spoke of. And then some more.
Momxo
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Yesterday morning Dad and I attended an assembly at Banded Peak School. They wanted to recognize us and your Foundation for funding the school with new basketball uniforms. I have to tell you, Will, that WillPower and the Power of Will are alive and well there and we just couldn’t have been more proud! The video of all the kids explaining what WillPower means to them and seeing all the basketball kids donning the new jerseys with WillPower printed on the back was emotionally moving. I will always remember it and suffice it to say it was hard to hold it together; to keep our tears from spilling wasn’t easy. Last week, one of your teachers, Mr C., asked if I would talk at the assembly about you and what you stood for…. how could the proudest Mom in the land say, “no” to that?
I wanted to share my words with you (even though I know you were there in the gym yesterday) but also wanted to record them somewhere where they could be read and remembered again by you and me and all who know and miss you. It is a beautiful thing to be reminded of just how big your little light is.
I love you, Willy. Like a bus full of new basketball uniforms and WillPower and big, proud mama love.
Momxo
Here’s what I had to say about you…
Hello and thank you.
I am Will’s Mom and this is Will’s Dad, Murray. Most of you know me as Mrs. Bouchard, but this morning I am here wearing my proudest hat… and that is as Will’s Mom. Will’s Dad and I are honoured to be here this morning on behalf of Will, but also on behalf of the Will Bouchard Memorial Foundation.
This community and this school are important to us for many reasons. We have lived and raised our 3 boys in this little piece of paradise over the last 22 years. Our boys — Justin, Ben and Will grew up in this community and in this school and each of their faces can be seen in the school photos that line the hallways here.
We are here because of our youngest son, Will. Mr. Churchill was one of Will’s teachers and he asked me to share a little bit about who Will was and what he was about.
Will was in grade 7 when our “worst day ever” happened. We lost him in a tragic accident in May 2011 and from that day forward this community and this school rallied together to help us survive.
We are lucky to live where we do and to have had a village to help us cope with our loss. Honestly, it is unlike any community we have ever known. Will loved this community and this school. It was more than a place to learn… it was his play place too. Just like it is for all of you.
Will was an active boy — a boy who loved to run, to jump, to play and to hang upside down. His two favourite places here were in the gym and on the playground. It’s important to note that he also liked to hang out in the band room with Mrs Fisher and the bari sax. Will loved sports. He played every school sport, played hockey in both Bragg Creek and Springbank, and was a member of the freestyle ski team in Fernie.
Will couldn’t sit still and he was also pretty chatty. Sometimes his chattiness coupled with his inability to sit still got him into a bit of trouble in the classroom as you can imagine. …Perhaps some of you are like this too. All this aside, it is here in the gym where he was happiest and where his light shone the brightest. Not only because he loved phys ed and sports but also because he was a boy who loved his friends and his peers… and the gym was and is a place to gather… just like now.
After losing Will the school asked us if they could hang his sports jersey here in the gym as a remembrance but also as a reminder of what Will stood for. Of course, we were honoured beyond words and to this day I cannot even tell you what it means to me to look up at that #8 jersey. It was his favourite number and any time he could choose which number to wear it always had an 8 in it.
So, when you look at that jersey up thereand you see the word WillPower… what does it mean? Well… it means two things and Will encompassed both. WillPower means to persevere, to always keep trying and to not give up. That’s what the dictionary would say and when it came to school and, in particular, sports, Will demonstrated WillPower always.
But it also has another meaning. If you switch the words around you get The Power of Will. You see, Will had this special power, this intuition, for knowing when people were sad or unhappy and he made it his mission to undo that and to make people happy. He was like the sad police. He couldn’t stand it when we or his friends or his peers were sad.
The cool thing is that we all have this power. We all, each of you, have the power to make someone’s day better. We, you, all of us, can have the Power of Will. And each time you’re in this gym and you see that jersey, that #8, and that word, WillPower let that be a reminder to never give up, to try harder, to persevere, but also to make someone’s day better, to make a sad person happy, to turn a frown upside down, and to be kind. In every facet of your life, kindness is really all that matters.
To those of you who will wear these new basketball uniforms now and in the coming years please know how honoured we are on behalf of ours son and the Will Bouchard Memorial Foundation to have provided them to this school — to this place he loved, to his village.
On the back of each jersey is the word WillPower”. The word is not large or overbearing, but small and intentional. Your vice principal last year, Mrs. Magee, was instrumental in getting these new uniforms and she collaborated with us in their design. When she suggested that the word WillPower be included on them we were very touched.
When you have the opportunityto represent Banded Peak through a school sport we hope that WillPower will guide your actions and the way you play and treat others. And here at school when you’re in the gym with your class and you see Wills jersey up there know he’s watching and cheering you on and in so doing is reminding you that you too have the power to make everyone around you a better person. Will was all about that. And that makes us very proud.
We miss Will beyond words. We always will.
All we ask, all anyone could ever ask is that you carry your own WillPower and the Power of Will that you all possess in your hearts and that you strive every day to make others happy. Be kind. Have fun. Be your best self.
He would love that more than anything.
Thank you.
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Willard, I missed you so that day too. Every year when James & (mostly) Kurtis decorate our garage I talk to you and remember you coming up the driveway & through the spooky maze with your buds. There was never time to talk much that night…after all, you can’t waste precious candy -getting time!! Besides.. who wants to hang with their teacher on hallowe’en night!! UGH!! ANd we got to enjoy that cool costume at school during the parade of costumes. You still make me smile- I will never forget you. xox Mrs. F.
Halloween will never be the same. Will loved that day so much. Free candy! Are you kidding me? He was all over it. Sure miss my little monster. Thanks for sharing your story, Lynn.
Willard, I missed you so that day too. Every year when James & (mostly) Kurtis decorate our garage I talk to you and remember you coming up the driveway & through the spooky maze with your buds. There was never time to talk much that night…after all, you can’t waste precious candy -getting time!! Besides.. who wants to hang with their teacher on hallowe’en night!! UGH!! ANd we got to enjoy that cool costume at school during the parade of costumes. You still make me smile- I will never forget you. xox Mrs. F.
Halloween will never be the same. Will loved that day so much. Free candy! Are you kidding me? He was all over it. Sure miss my little monster. Thanks for sharing your story, Lynn.