Sixteen Octobers and a Little Yellow Butterfly

ByJoni Bouchard

 

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A long gone unforgettable October day with Brent and Jordan

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

 

 

Dear Will,

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

Momxo

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  • When Missing You is Forever

    May 10, 2020

     My dear, sweet boy,

    I miss you.

    But it’s so much more than that.

    I’m not sure there are words to even describe what missing you forever feels like. There is a quote that I frequently refer to that I think sums it up best…

    Sometimes one person can be missing and the whole world feels empty.

     … Yup, “empty” feels like the right word. But again, it’s so much more than that.

     And, it’s May. The hardest month of the year. Every day a sad reminder of the day our world changed forever. I wonder every May if your angel date won’t sting so much, but almost nine years later, the sting still stings.

     And, today is Mother’s Day. You and Justin and Ben are the best part of me and I am missing all of you.

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    The social distancing restrictions due to COVID-19 have not allowed me to see your brothers but, thankfully, that is a “just for now” thing. I will see them soon, but you, Will, are the one I will miss forever. Today I think of my own Mom, your Nana, and how much she means to me — how in this world she is the one person I’ve known the longest (ahem, like my whole life!) and whom I have always been able to count on in good times and in bad. I hope you know that every minute of your 12 ½ years I loved you more than the minute before and that all these days later my big love for you just gets bigger.

    My heart smiles recalling all the beautiful, and sometimes funny, gifts and kind gestures that you and your brothers and Dad did to make Mother’s Day extra special for me. I am lucky to have had all of what you boys could muster when what mattered the most was that we were together. Believe me, Will, I have tucked every special memory and every cold piece of toast into my heart. I have kept every homemade card and gift you boys ever made at school and that big box of love is one of my most treasured possessions. Today I will spend my day touching and reading every one of them remembering the tiny and not-so-tiny hands that created them.

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     I will pause and remember the sound of your infectious giggle and call to mind how you’d sit at the kitchen table with that big tub of Crayola markers and crayons and construction paper and pipe cleaners and stickers and tape. Oh, how you loved tape. With a juice box and a bowl of fishy crackers at your side.

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    My sweet Will, I miss you so very much. I miss all the yesterdays, I miss you today and I will miss you for all the tomorrows.

    And I love you. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, forever… Like a bus from here to forever and then a whole bunch more.

     

    Momxo

     

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  • My Heaven on Earth

    Oregon
    Will and Murray on Cannon Beach, Oregon. Summer 2010

    August 24, 2014

     

    Dear Will,

     

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

     

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

     

    Will and the Ocean
    Will and the Ocean

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

     

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

     

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

     

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

     

    Lulab,

     

    Momxo

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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  • You Are The Boss After All

    snow front.jpg
    The snow was gone… and then this happened.

    April 14, 2021

    Dear Will,

    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”.

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    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.)
    batman.jpg
    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.

    Doing what you loved.

    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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  • Number Eight

    BasketballWednesday, June 29, 2011  (38 days)   Good morning, little sun,   Last night I was reminiscing about your favourite number.  Eight.  Kathleen and I had chatted on Monday about why you loved the number “8” so much and the obvious reasons, of course, where that, for one, it looked like a snowman and we all know how much you love snow.  Secondly, it was Ben’s favourite number and it was no secret that whatever Ben liked, you liked too.  Thirdly, Powder 8’s came to mind and one of Dad’s favourite memories is of you and him skiing fresh powder in Fernie; he crossing over the fresh turns you’d already made in the snow in front of him to make an “8”.  Then, we remembered that in all of the sports you played, if there was a jersey and a choice of which number could be worn, you always chose a number that had an “8” in it.   Last night as I stood in the driveway saying goodbye to Kathleen, I turned around to walk back into the house and staring at me was our house number.  Number 8!  I stopped and stared, unable to move, and thought that perhaps the most beautiful reason of all, was that home was number 8.   Beautiful tears filled my eyes and at that moment I thought that maybe you were telling me something; that maybe “8” was your favourite number because it was your home.  Our home.  Because of that, I have never loved our home more.   I love you WillBilly.  Like a bus and to infinity.  (Which Mrs. Fischer reminded me today is an 8 turned on its side).  Another Wow.   Momxo

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  • Happy Heavenly Twenty

    Will B&W
    Almost a teenager…
    Sunday, October 14, 2018       Happy Birthday, my sweet boy,   This week began with a throwback to a sunny afternoon 20 years ago when I welcomed you into my arms and you officially became a member of our little family. It was and will always be one of the very best days of my life. It’s terribly sad for me to think that today you would be 20 years old and even more sad that I had only 12 birthdays to plan and celebrate with you here. You have to know, however, that we’ve never missed a year celebrating your birthday, Willy. Ribs, an angel food cake and cinnamon buns were your favourite and so we continue with the same birthday menu year after year after year. I’ve been thinking all week about your birthday and how we were robbed of so much when you passed. A boy who never got to be 13. A boy who never got to be a teenager. A boy turned man who would now be 20. Eight birthdays where instead of lighting candles on your cake for you to make a wish and blow out we instead light a white pillar candle that sits in the middle of our dinner table. This candle lights our way so to speak and we don’t put it out until well after our dinner for you. Instead we make our own wish and I’m pretty sure that we all make the same one — a collective, “I wish you were here.”   Today I will put all my energy into celebrating one of my happiest of days. I will remember your welcome into the world and the 12 short, but full to the brim, years we shared.   I will remember your sticky fingers while eating your birthday ribs and I’ll smile at how you used to squish/press/roll your slice of angel food cake into a small ball of doughy goodness. I will remember how at age 10 you learned how to make the gooey-ist bread-maker cinnamon buns in our family. I will remember your smile and your laugh and how much you loved being with us. And I will remember how much we loved celebrating you and how much we miss you. We will never stop celebrating you, Will. You will always be a part of us and every October 14 will always be a special day.   Love you, sweet one. Bigger than a bus full of birthday ribs and angel food cake squished into a million tiny cake balls and more than a Willy batch of the best cinnamon buns in the land.       Momxo
    willandcole
    Will and his friend, Cole, who celebrated birthdays together because they were only 2 days apart.

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  • Where Love Continues

    Wills Little Sun

    Monday, September 7, 2026

    Dear Willy,

    You and I have a new and improved home online! After publishing our story in my memoir I felt that we outgrew my blog so I acquired the most wonderful website designer and she did some website renovations. Same address, just a new, bigger space with a couple of extra rooms so we have some more room to grow. All the letters I wrote to you and posted to my blog are now unpacked and settled into their new room and you’ll see there are some familiar bits that I just couldn’t leave behind. My book, however, needed a room of its own which was the real reason for some renovations. And, because life’s little things bring me so much joy and are a reminder for all of us to slow down, to pause, and to find awe in the little moments I thought it would be super cool to have a room to celebrate and share life’s little blessings.

    For now, Will, I just wanted to welcome you to our new online home sweet home and to let our friends and visitors know that while loveletterstowill.com has a new look and  some new features, at its core it still honours where love has always lived and where it continues, still. 

    As always, my sweet boy, I love you like a Willy bus oozing with love parked in the middle of our new online home sweet home.

    Momxo

    loveletterstowill.com

    Same address. New home. Where love continues. 

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0 Comments

  2. 🙂 Happy Birthday Will! I remember seeing you in the grocery store Joni just a few days before Will was born. I still had 2 months to wait for Jordan. Hugs from Lisa and Jordan

    Reply

    1. Lisa, I loved my Will pregnancy. It was the easiest of my three boys. It seems so wrong that you can carry a baby in your tummy,then give birth, and do all the parenting things, all the while loving your child more than you could ever love anyone or anything else. And then, poof!, they’re taken from you. There are no answers. I can’t wait to see the tall version of Jordy that is mind boggling to me. Love you, Lisa. Thanks for your comment and for being such an awesome friend. Xo

      Reply

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