There’s this photo I have. And it might be the most powerful photo I own…
I walked into a store on main street in Fernie on a summer day in 2011…. only weeks after losing you and to this day I’m not sure if I laid eyes on it first or if it laid eyes on me. It was another of those profound moments that are crystal clear in my mind and the feelings it brought forth were and still are eerily beautiful. I remember being drawn to it the moment I walked through the doors because this boy looked like you. Just. Like. You. I picked it up and in the quiet stillness that surrounded me I heard these words — “peek-a-boo, Mom”. I knew that I could not leave the store without it.
Those few weeks after losing you were numbing, confusing, foggy, terribly painful and raw with emotion. I spent all of my waking moments searching for answers, for meaning, for ways to survive, for something to believe in, for a God that would promise to take me to you at the end of my days here and that for eternity nothing could tear us apart. On that day, seeing that photo, it felt like I had the answer I wanted so desperately. You see it, too, don’t you, Will?
It’s as if this photo was taken from inside of me; from deep within my soul. This is what I see when I open my eyes. I see you as if you are super imposed into/onto everything that is real. It is yet another reminder that the veil is thin. And I like it that way. Peek-a-boo back at you, Willy. I see you.
Love you like a bus, Will… with peek-a-boo windows from my soul.
Momxo
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My Sweet Will
Friday, July 12, 2013
Hey Will,
One of the hardest parts of losing you is watching time pass. The world keeps turning; days turning into weeks and then to months and when I note the date or have to write it on something I shake my head – still not believing that its been two years (actually, 2 years, 52 days). It seems like yesterday and forever at the same time. I carry-on (somehow) most days but it isn’t without you on my mind every minute of every day. I guess it is true that you are a part of me; a part of me that will be forever, and I find comfort in believing that as a mom and a son we are inseparable always. Innately, I look for you everywhere I go, like I have special invisible glasses that can see you in the smallest of things. Yesterday while walking through the woods I stopped and took notice of all the different hues of your favourite color, green, that surrounded me; so many trees, tall and short, big and small, both deciduous and coniferous, the bushes abundant with leaves of all shapes and colors of, yes, green. The forest floor, also green, was covered with plants of all types, new shoots, moss… like a green carpet covering the dark brown fertile soil that provided a rich contrast to all the greenery. It was beautiful; Mother Nature at one of her finest. You’ll like this part, Will, for in the next heartbeat, I shuddered to think how many insects (for me, just a nicer sounding word for bugs) there were all around where I stood and instantly I thought how that wouldn’t have bothered you at all. On the contrary, for surely you’d have looked for the bugs, the spiders, the creepy crawly things, and found the “ickyness” written all over my face quite entertaining. I felt you with me in that green world and I laughed to myself knowing that while I was noticing all of the green stuff, you’d have been looking at the forest quite differently. You’d have been looking at the tree trunks, and the branches, wondering how and where you could get up in there and climb, wondering how high you could go without a worry in the world.
As my eyes were diverted back down to the ground, they were drawn to a little white flower that sprouted up and out of the soil. It was small with feathery leaves; bowing its head in my direction… and through my special invisible glasses I saw you. I frequently notice the little things now – like this little white flower, little blue butterflies, even the beauty in a single raindrop; things I’d have not really thought twice about before. Somehow these invisible glasses also give me a double vision; I see things through my eyes and then through yours. When I stop to look at the beauty in little things, I see you looking back at me and for a moment time stands still. Then when I blink, you’re gone. I used to cry, straining so hard to find you, to see you, but now I trust that you are there and that I will see you. It’s a lesson I am happy to have learned for when I tried to see you in the big picture I could never find you. I know you are never far from me, Will. We are inseparable, held together by an invisible thread. You will always be my Will and I will always be your mom. No one can ever take that away.
Love you little son/sun… like a bus and a little white flower in a green world.
Momxo
The CordWe are connected, my child and I,By an invisible cord not seen by the eye. It’s not like the cord that connects us ’til birth, This cord can’t be seen by any on earth. This cord does its work right from the start It binds us together, attached to my heart. I know that it’s there, though no one can see The invisible cord from my child to me. The strength of this cord is hard to describe It can’t be destroyed, it can’t be denied. It’s stronger than any cord man could create It withstands the test, can hold any weight. And though you are gone, though you’re not here with me The cord is still there, but no one can see. It pulls at my heart, I am bruised, I am sore But this cord is my lifeline as never before. I am thankful that God connects us this way A mother and child, death can’t take it away.~ author unknown ~
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Amidst this crazy world I am desperately trying to say goodbye to winter and in true Willy fashion you keep mixing up snow and sending it down! These past three weeks have not gone without a considerable snowfall and then just to mess with my mind you pull out a blue sky with a sun so warm and bright that tiny green shoots poke through the snow to then throw in an hour or two of more of the dreaded flakes. Not the kind that melt on contact with the ground but at times the kind that blow sideways with the wind and feel like ball bearings are coming from the sky. Each time (and it’s been daily this week) I look up to the sky and mutter your name… at first it was with a smile, then the next time with an eye roll and a smile, the next time with a shake of my head and maybe not a smile… Each time my reaction building on itself and now I’m at the stern mother plea of “enough now”.
So, what do I hear in return? You giggling. (How I miss that sound). Your contagious giggle followed by the phrase you (and your brothers) were famous for when you were 4 and 5 years old. “You’re not the boss of me”. That phrase on many occasions was part of your power struggle when you just didn’t want to succumb to my requests. Oh boy, I remember it well. We did have to pick our battles and, quite frankly, sometimes it wasn’t worth the struggle. Here’s some I remember…
Me: “Will, no cookies before dinner. Even the ones in your pocket should go back in the jar.”
You: “You’re not the boss of me.”
(I think most times, I won this one.)
Me: “Please get in the car, Willy. We haven’t time to ride your bike to the dentist. And, we’re gonna be late.”
You: “You’re not the boss of me.”
(I definitely won this one. The dentist was in another town.)
Me: “It would be a good idea for you to put your brother’s skateboard back where you got it. Before he notices that it is missing.”
You: “You’re not the boss of me.”
(You won this one. Once.)
Me: “How about we put those rubber boots away (after wearing them for three months everyday). Your flip flops just might be more comfortable with your shorts?”
You: “You’re not the boss of me.”
(You won this one and wore your rubber boots until you outgrew them in the fall.)
Me: “Do you think we could leave the Batman cape in the car while we go into the grocery store?”
You: “You’re not the boss of me.”
(You won this one too. On many occasions.)
Ya, that cape. The one with the mask built in.
So each time you poke me with more snow when I just want to see the grass turn green I am reminded that maybe now, you are the boss and that you must be lovin’ this. Knowing it drives me crazy and relishing in getting the coveted last word. Really, what could be better? Being the youngest of three boys meant it wasn’t often that you got the last word though it sure wasn’t for lack of trying. Up there, sweet boy, it appears you really are the boss. Throwing down the snow mixed with moments of blue sky and sunshine, watching me go from a winter coat and boots to a sweater and my Birkenstock’s, from wearing mittens to enjoying a cup of tea on my deck, from turning on the fireplace to opening the patio doors… what the heck, Will! As I think of what this must look like from your vantage point up there no wonder you’re giggling. Of course, you hold the boss card. Admittedly, the lesson is that it is only April and we are only onto our 4th snowstorm of Spring and I’m not holding my breath on you throwing down some more. You are the boss after all.
A snowstorm and the sun in the same day
As for winter and saying good riddance, I know you’re happier than a clown up there never having to say goodbye to winter. I imagine the snow is up to your eyeballs and that your skis are close by. And the sky is bluer than blue and it’s snowing at the same time. How do you do that? Dumb question. I guess only a boss would know.
Green grass, sigh…. soon, I hope…
But, my winter boots are still at the front door.
I miss you, my sweet boy. More than you could ever know because there’s not a word down here that is big enough to describe that.
And, I love you, little boss. More than a bus parked on a patch of green grass with snow up to the roof under a bluer than blue sky.
Momxo
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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
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Friday, May 17, 2013
Dear Willy,
The long weekend is here and it’s the one that I dread more than anything. I have gone right back to the weekend that started out being so much fun and ended so tragically two years ago. As I type the words “two years ago”… I think how long two years sounds and then in the same breath it feels like it is all playing out like no time has passed. I remember this day so vividly; where we were, what we were doing, and how much fun you were having. It was a PL day so no school for you (oh, how you loved those PD days!). I was taking a CPR certification course at school learning how to use CPR in the event that I would someday need to administer it in an emergency. Not ever in this whole, wide world did I think I would be using it on you two days later. A mom’s worst nightmare? Yup. And that’s just the beginning. 725 days and the nightmare just won’t go away.
This night we were at a friend’s home celebrating a birthday. Many of your friends were there and you were having such a fun time playing outside with all of them. Instead of coming home with us you were invited to go have a campfire in a campground in the Kananaskis with our friends who have camped their annually every long weekend in May. Kale’s mom and dad delivered you home later that evening and I remember how happy and tired you were, smelling of a campfire and energized on marshmallows. When I tucked you into your bed that night your whole room smelled of campfire – from your clothes that were laying on the floor to your hair. You were tired and I had to tell you (more like order you) to brush your teeth and wash your hands and face. Eventually you did but it wasn’t without a little Willy battle. Oh, we had a few of those, your strong “Will” showing its true colors. All such normal “twelve going on thirteen” negotiations that ended way too soon. All in all, it was such a fun evening and a great way to begin the weekend that until 2011 always kicked off the promise of summer fun.
What we didn’t know/couldn’t know was that that Friday would be your last. The pain that comes with that reality is paralyzing. I spent most of today in my pajamas. I remember how much you loved “pajama days” and well today was one of those for me. I did manage to get out of bed for a bit but found myself back in my pajamas and under my covers wondering how it was possible that I was still alive and that I hadn’t died in my sleep from the heart break. Two years and I am still here but still hurting. It doesn’t feel any different, not any less painful and in some ways it is worse because I miss you so much. Watching life go on for so many when my world is still shattered and broken is difficult. But I look for you everywhere. And I see you in the most beautiful things. Yesterday, it was the little blue butterflies that appeared out of no where and fluttered around me while I was looking for a stick to throw in the river for Finn to fetch. I knew it was you, Willy. No one can make my heart flutter like you.
So here I go again… another long weekend in May to live through… minute by minute, breath by breath. I miss you Will. More than anything and everything. And I always “Will”.
Love you like the biggest bus ever,
Momxo
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You and the ski legends “upstairs” have been busy. After an October full of balmy temperatures and a Halloween that will go on record as one of the warmest in a handful of Halloweens, the big blanket of Willy that I am looking at this morning is another testament to your love for snow.
Friday night I was watching the neighbourhood kids in their Halloween costumes parade from door to door in their “skinny” costumes instead of the “fat” ones we’ve become accustomed to because of the snowsuits the little ones needed to wear underneath their costumes. No little roly-poly’s this year, no mittens or gloves or winter boots and no snow to trudge through. The streets were alive with kids and parents who were not in a hurry to get out of the cold and back into their homes unlike some of the bitter cold Halloweens I remember when you boys were younger.
This morning is quite different. As the snow continues to fall the streets in our Community are quiet. It seems no one is rushing out of their homes… yet. It is still early and soon there will be a few who will venture out to begin to shovel their driveways. By mid morning I’m pretty sure our cul-de-sac will be full of kids in snow gear building snow forts and snowmen, piling snow to build jumps, and the “snow toys” that have been packed away since last winter will find themselves once again all over the yards of those with children. Until three years ago that was our house and if I could wish it all over again I would.
The season of winter coats and pants and wet socks begins. The season of lost mitts and constant reminders to put on warm winter boots is now here. The days of clean clothes being dumped from the dryer so the wet ones could be tossed in to dry while the kettle was boiling water for hot chocolate is about to begin. The front door mess of wet toques and mitts, of snow boots and jackets, and ski pants with one leg turned inside out while sometimes still attached to a snow boot is now a memory of winters past. And perhaps the sweetest memory of all was your rosy cheeks and crazy “toque-head” hair. Many a time, you’d adorn one sockless foot while the other sock looked like a snake because your foot was pulled from your snow boot while your sock somehow wanted to stay in there, your big boisterous voice full of excitement and your unforgettable BIG smile when you’d finally come inside from a building-then-playing session in the big snow. Will, these were the days that I will cherish always — the days I would give anything to have back. I’m sure you also remember my raised voice, the sound of my frustration at the mess that would accumulate at the front door. When I’d tell you to hang up your stuff, you and your brothers would say the same thing, “Mom, it doesn’t fit in the closet” or “Mom, what’s the use of putting it away when I’m gonna put it on again as soon as it’s dry.” And so it seemed that the heap of wet jackets and clothing and all the extra stuff that became a part of the front entrance to our home somehow stayed there for the whole winter. Yup, those were the winters I will fondly remember, the gifts of ordinary winter days.
Today I imagine you up there with your BIG smile and boisterous yippees and yahoos making all that snow that wintertime brings with a big heavenly snow machine. I can visualize you wanting to dump bigger and bigger amounts upon us down here… though not for me per se, but for all the ski nuts like your dad and your brothers and your ski buddies who are anxious to begin a winter full of fun on skis and snowboards. Undoubtedly I will need to remind myself over and over, again and again, in the upcoming months of how much you loved the snow — a tactic I use to get through our winters down here without you. When watching the snow pile up appears nothing but a headache to me, I remind myself of how much you loved it and that can make me smile at all of it (for now).
Love you, Willy. Like a bus and a big heavenly snow machine.
Momxo
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Will and Kathleen… Yesterday and Forever ago
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Dear Will,
It’s been a tough couple of weeks. It’s always tough, but these two weeks have just been tougher. I know that Kathleen’s high school graduation was part of it… gosh, you knew so many of those kids and they just seem so grown up now. And that’s it. They are grown up and you, little Blue, are still 12 ½ in my mind.
When I look at your friends I think to myself, “where’d the time go?” and in the next breath it feels like eternity. I’ve said many times to many people that it seems like forever and yesterday all at once and the only thing that separates the forever and yesterday is a moment. Our good friends lost their 19 year old son 5 weeks ago and when I think of them as I often do it feels like yesterday that we were beginning the horribly sad road that they have just found themselves on. It all comes back to hit you again when you wonder if you would even have the strength to have to begin again.
Today, it feels like I’ve been on this road forever with no end in sight. 1,509 days have passed and I still wish it was all a bad dream or that you’ve been at a sleepover or at camp for 1,509 days and tomorrow maybe you’ll be back. Of course, that’s not true. No one does that. Sadly, I can’t book a trip to come and see you and I can’t put a circle around a day on the calendar that I can pick you up from the airport from a long trip. The reality is that I don’t know when I’ll see you again; I only know that one day I will be at the end of my life here on earth and you will be the first person I see on the other side. The visual I have of our sweet reunion is the most beautiful vision I hold. It is quite literally what keeps me going.
Oh, Willy. I miss you like yesterday and forever and love you like a bus on its way to there.
Momxo
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0 Comments
Wow, that is a powerful photo. I too see Will there and am drawn back to it over and over again, there is so much in it. Beautifully written. XO
It IS powerful for sure. I’ve shown it to you haven’t I! From the day I got it it sits on my desk up in my “happy space” where I look at it / into it often. Another one of those Willy signs.
Wow, that is a powerful photo. I too see Will there and am drawn back to it over and over again, there is so much in it. Beautifully written. XO
It IS powerful for sure. I’ve shown it to you haven’t I! From the day I got it it sits on my desk up in my “happy space” where I look at it / into it often. Another one of those Willy signs.