When Its Not The Happiest Time of the Year

ByJoni Bouchard

IMG_1783December 23, 2014

Dear Will,

Will's Santa Hat is our angel on the top of our tree
Will’s Santa Hat is our angel on the top of our tree

I have been thinking about you more than usual if that is even possible. This time of year so happy for others is not so happy for me. The memories of Christmases past flood my conscience and at times I feel that I am not even here, but with you instead. Yesterday, a “22” day was especially hard though today doesn’t feel much different. Dad and I and Finn are in Fernie now, awaiting the arrival of your big brothers later this afternoon. I am looking forward to having them here, as the four of us together for Christmas is all that really matters. I’ve put up the tree and decorated it just so – you are all over it as usual and your brothers too (and, well, Dad and I too in the form of our Fernie family ski passes). Your Santa hat is our angel on the top of the tree, the one that you took a sharpie to in grade 3 and wrote your name in large letters so that no one would take it. I love how you printed your name… there really was no difference from when you were a tiny tot to when you were last with us as your name is really just a simple series of sticks when you think about it. So much easier than when Justin and Ben were small and had to learn to maneuver their pencil to form curves. I guess by the third child I’d figured out that there wasn’t a simpler name to print than yours. It is all a non issue other than when you boys were learning to print your name and well, you, little blue, had it the easiest. Our tree is also adorned with some of the ornaments that you made at school that I couldn’t leave in the Christmas box. The paper cut out snowflake that you made and glued to a CD, and the brown felt gingerbread boy that you sewed and stuffed all on your own when you were in grade 2. There’s also a wooden sign that you painted and strung with a very long piece of metallic thread. I love these little masterpieces even more now than when you brought them home all those years ago. They are priceless memories of Christmases that seem now so perfect because all five of us were together.

I have already told you how we’ve adopted some new family traditions since your passing and they are simple and beautiful. Our stocking exchange has become a family highlight and the greenery and baubles that lay so peacefully on your stocking Christmas morning and then grace our Christmas table hugging the snowy white candle that we light in your memory seems so perfect. We look forward to and love the last present under the tree, a neatly wrapped box from you to us that is always a family jigsaw puzzle that keeps us busy on the days and weeks following Christmas. These have become important pieces of Christmas that have allowed us to celebrate in your memory and in a way that I believe you would embrace wholeheartedly. You will always be a part of our Christmases, Willy, just as you are a part of our every day.

Tonight or tomorrow morning I will ice the gingerbread boys. It’s the same recipe that I used to make when you were little but the boys are smaller now. I found a small gingerbread boy cookie cutter and in each little tin or box I enclose a little note that says, “Before they can be men, they must be boys”. I came upon these wise words two years ago and now they seem so apropos to include. Again, they make me think of you.

I miss you, Will. So very much still and I now that I always will. As I sit and stare out of my big Fernie window at the incredible view of “your” ski hill I am reminded that if you were here you’d be up there skiing now. You’d have begun the day with your Dad and I imagine now you’d be hucking flips rippin’ it up with Josh and Calvin.

This season isn’t the happiest time of the year for me… or for anyone that has lost someone so loved. I try to smile and though for you I do, it isn’t without a tear too.

Happy Christmas up there, Will. I know you’re with us, watching me now as I wipe a tear, and find a smile. Rip it up on the ski hill for Dad and your brothers. And then join us here on Christmas morning and watch us laugh and remember and love you forever.

Love you like a bus full of Christmas lights and turkey,

Momxo

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  • Life Lessons From My Forever Twelve-Year Old

    Monday, October 13, 2025

    Dear Will,

    The change of seasons and October always turn my focus to you. You are a constant undercurrent in my days but when the first snowfall sticks to the ground I think of you a little more than usual. And tomorrow is your birthday. Forever 12. Almost fifteen years of heavenly birthdays is a long time and as I sit in reflection and remember the day you came into our world I think about the immense joy you brought to me and at the same time I feel the constant ache of what it is like to miss you forever. The missing you part of grief is hands down the hardest part and sometimes it’s tough to not dwell in that space. You have taught me though that feeling sad is the price of love and that grief is like love upside down. I do have a choice on where I put the magnifying glass and today I am shifting it to gratitude. Gratitude for you and for all the lessons you taught me.

    You taught me how to look at the little things and how to recognize that they, in fact, are the big things. I have learned that if I bulldoze through my days I miss out on all the little celebrations along the way. The smell of coffee first thing in the morning, the way the sun spills from behind the clouds on these cool, crisp days, sharing a belly laugh with a friend, conversations that spark thought and inspire me to be and do better, lazy mornings and baggy sweaters, oh, and the centre of a cinnamon bun. I am grateful for every rock or two that end up in my pockets on my way home after a walk. I am grateful for Dad and your brothers and their beautiful gals and all the times we get to spend together. I am grateful for the gift of every ordinary day and how many you and I shared. I frequently draw from all the memories of those precious ordinary days and, Willy, everything about them and you makes me smile. 

    One of your biggest teachings and one I am most thankful for is the importance of telling those that mean the world to me that I love them every chance I get. Sometimes we don’t get a tomorrow and I am over the moon grateful that you knew how much you were loved on the day our tomorrows stopped.

    In the beauty of this October, Mother Nature has sent a gust of wind, a message to the trees to hunker down for winter, to take a last drink of whatever moisture she bequeaths them through a morning frost, some rain and inevitably a rain/snow mix. And with that gust of wind comes my appreciation for Mother Nature and her reminder that we are small and maybe not as mighty as we think we are on this spinning ball we call earth. Like you, she also has lessons to share.

    Happy Heavenly Birthday tomorrow, Willy. I miss you, my forever twelve-year old boy, and I love you more than a bus full of your life lessons.

    Momxo

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  • There is always love…

    Photo from May 18, 2014-1Monday, May 19, 2014     Dear Will,   The toughest weekend of the year is in it’s final hours and as I sit here in my pajamas in the mid afternoon staring out at our WillBilly tree, I see the green ribbons from your thirteenth birthday still tied to your branches and am reminded how much your tree has grown in three years. Its another day of intermittent sun, rain, sun, rain and in many ways mirrors the ups and downs that come with the long weekend that will always be defined as the weekend that our world changed. It has been a weekend of attempts at distraction; a dinner out with friends, a movie date – just Dad and I, of quiet times and withdrawal, of bike rides with Finn and Dad, of naps and tea and a hot bath, and of many tears. It has been a weekend of intense memories, of flashbacks, and reflections of how yesterday three years ago, began so happy and ended so tragically. This long weekend is also another reminder of the passage of time and how missing you gets bigger and bigger and bigger.   As I skim the tops of the trees, searching for a break in the overcast sky for a patch of blue and for signs of you, I think about the many ways love has found its way to me over these last couple of days. Friends and family have shown their love and sent their hugs via text messages and emails and voicemails. Love also came in the form of a heartfelt letter attached to a written poem from a woman I am beginning to realize is magical. Yesterday morning, before Dad and I got out of bed, love found its way to our doorstep in the form of a loaf of freshly baked cinnamon bread. There was no note, but I knew where it had come from and I hope that this special friend knows that her simple gesture was so much bigger than that. It was love. Love came in the form of a friend offering the simple distraction of a ride to Bragg Creek in her new car. Love appeared when Justin came for dinner last night and it came in a loving text exchange with Ben as I crawled into bed last night. Love has come in the form of quiet embraces from Dad and from wet nose kisses from our big, brown dog. Part of Finn’s morning routine is to jump up on our bed and wiggle his way in between Dad and I like you used to do. He has so much of you in him, which explains why we frequently refer to him as the FinnWilly (knew you’d like that, Willly). Some of the most important people in my world are away this long weekend and yet I feel their love as if they were sitting here beside me. There is a string of texts from my most special friend that is like an invisible chain of paper hearts from her to me. Of course, it is love.   Not surprisingly, this weekend is full of a heaviness that I can’t shake off and hard as I try I think it’s just easier to succumb to it, to accept that it is just that — a weekend to be sad. Today, I gave myself permission to have a pajama day and to cry. I’m in my pajamas because there isn’t anything more comfortable and I cry because I am missing you so very much. Soon Will, I believe that a rainbow will fill the sky and I’ll know it’s you sending big love my way.   I love you from my toes up to the stars and, of course, like a bus.       Momxo

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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”.

    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.)
    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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  • Forever My Son. Forever Your Mom.

    Monday, May 11, 2026

    My sweet Will,

    As you well know, Mother’s Day holds a lot of bittersweet emotions for me. Being a mom to you and your brothers brought me the most joy and even still with Ben and Justin in their 30s, the second Sunday in May still just means so much. The nostalgia at remembering how lovely it felt to be surrounded by the three of you and celebrated on this day is something I will always treasure. It is the sweetest feeling to be called Mom and it will always be top of my list of who I am and who I still choose to be. At the end of my life if I could choose to be remembered for only one thing it would hands down be being a mom to you and your brothers. I loved being your mom, Will, and though I miss you in ways I cannot even put to words, you will forever be my son and I will forever be your mom.

     I dream of the day when you and I meet again and though that place and that day feels other worldly and so far away right now, I know it will be my life’s biggest circle moment. I dream of it often.

    I felt your warmth and your love yesterday and as the words, Happy Mother’s Day were spoken by Justin and Ben I heard your whisper in the little blue butterfly that I saw on my walk along the river path yesterday… I knew it was you.

    In a week from now, and looming over me as I write to you is the undeniable lead-up to the hardest day of every of the last fifteen long weekends of May. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of no physical you, no bursts through the front door, no phone calls or texts or warm physical hugs. I will say, however, that I do still see you and hear you and feel you, and I thank God every single day that you live within me and that my imagination is as clear and as clever as you ever were. I got you, Willy. Forever. 

    I miss you sweet one. Forever my son, forever your mom, and forever loved on our forever big bus.

    Momxo

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  • September and Socks

    img 1592
    Will, Brent and Jordan.
    Friends Then, Friends Still

    Thursday, September 29, 2016

    Hey Will,

    Well, fall is definitely in the air these days and the crisp mornings, yellow leaves and fall smells have enveloped me in what I can only describe as my favourite season. Soon the snow will fly and your favourite season will be upon us. For now, though, I will savour everything that is fall and will remember all of what September was to our family when our world was perfect.

    For a few years now, September is the month Ben returns to university and Dad and I are confronted again with living alone in the house that for a long time was filled with all you boys and all the smelly stuff that is part of you guys. The best Septembers were when you were all here at home — three new school backpacks hanging in the closet, three new pairs of outdoor shoes in the vicinity of the front door and oodles of brand new socks after all the old tattered and mismatched ones with holes were silently thrown away before school started again. New socks… such a September right of passage…

    Sadly, this September should have been our first empty nest, Will, but life threw us that terrible tragedy 5 ½ years ago and we were robbed of precious time. A lifetime with you would never have been enough but oh, to have had more time… I’ve spent much of this month wondering where you’d be this first September after high school, and knowing of course that you’d be at UBC in the Okanangan – Just. Like. Ben. No one would be surprised as your idolization for Ben was no secret. You do know it drove your brother crazy but raining on his parade was what you loved to do and to do that at university would have been a proud feather in your cap.

    I’ve frequently thought about Kathleen too and hoped that she would be on the good side of your conscience; a reminder to you to make good choices. I have also thought a lot about your friends, Jordan and Brent, who are also at UBC in Kelowna and I just know that the three of you would be thick as thieves on that campus and that I’d be worrying myself crazy… then in the next breath wishing more than anything that it was true and that I had the chance to worry about you. Sigh. I’d give anything to have all of that. I was corresponding with Jordan mid September, wondering how he was doing, and when your name came up he, too, agreed that in a perfect world you’d be there with them. I reminded him that as an angel you were there looking out for them, keeping them safe and sharing in the fun. He replied that he knew you were. My heart smiles, Will, when I hear that your friends still keep you close. I hope that they will for all of their lives.

    Next weekend is Thanksgiving and Ben will be coming home. And Kathleen. And Brent. And Jordan. Ben who has adapted to being away from home and whom we are used to coming home and then going again, but for the others coming home having just spent their first September at university will be a bit more exciting. Not just for them, but for their parents and families, too. Dinner is always better when everyone is sitting around the table and we’re blessed that Justin is able to come for dinner frequently. Having Ben at home for Thanksgiving is something I look forward to very much. I count the days. I imagine in our perfect world that once in the driveway you’d pile out of the car on his coat tails leaving everything in the back seat and make a run for the front door thinking it was a race to get their first while he’d saunter in, leaving a trail of things he was bringing with him from the back seat. Of course, there’d be hugs and then to the refrigerator you’d both go only this time it would be a race to see who’d get there first. It’s difficult still to live with the reality that you won’t be returning home too, and the pining that my heart feels tugs heavily on my heartstrings sometimes still pulling me down to my knees.

    Instead, I know that you’ll be with us in spirit. That you’ll be sitting in your spot at the table. We’ll talk about you like we always do and we’ll be grateful for the times we did have together. We’ll reminisce about all of the Septembers that we did have and we’ll laugh and cry and eat turkey and mashed potatoes til our tummies are ready to explode. And then I’ll pick up all the dirty, new socks that will have littered the house whilst Ben is home…

    Love you, Willy. Like a bus full of brand new socks.

    Momxo

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  • Inhale… Exhale…

    Will's Grade 7 School Photo copy 3
    Will’s Grade 7 Photo
    December 6, 2015     Dear Willy,   A month has passed since I’ve put my words to you in a letter, however, that certainly doesn’t mean that you haven’t been in my thoughts… its quite the contrary as you are on my mind every minute of every day. Like my breath, I inhale thoughts of you, hold them for a moment, and then exhale wishing that things were different. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Every breath.   It is early Sunday morning, the sun is still sleeping and there’s still a hush throughout the house and the neighbourhood. I am full to the brim of thoughts of you. So full that I couldn’t create more room without telling you how much I love you and how much I miss you. For a few weeks now there is a white blanket of Willy covering the ground and I’m thinking this blanket of Willy is here to stay for the winter. Each time you blanket us with more snow I imagine how happy you must be up there stirring up a big dump of beautiful, white crystals and how excited you must be when you dump them on us and on the mountains so that Dad and your brothers can do what they love to do and what you loved so much too. The mountains are beckoning them…. It’s early season and they are hopeful that you’re up there trying to figure out how to send more of the white stuff to the mountains.   With December comes Christmas and the hustle and bustle of the season has begun. Yesterday I spent the day shopping and it hit me numerous times how difficult it was when we had to somehow find a way to get through Christmas without you that first year. Gosh, those were sad days and I remember how hard it was to even step foot into a shopping mall. I attempted twice and both times abandoned the stores and ran out to the car to catch my breath and to cry. It makes me think that we’ve come a long way from that first Christmas without you and though it’s still difficult and still sad we’ve a whole new way of celebrating the holidays, having adopted new traditions with you in the centre of all of them.   For now, I’ve pushed my Christmas list aside and am basking in thoughts of my morning with you. Early this morning I felt you so close to me.  I lay there quietly for a long time with my eyes closed, imagining myself calling your name and watching you run towards to me. A wise and beautiful friend has told me that the veil is thin between you and I and I hold ever so tightly to that belief. One day, Will, at the end of my breaths here on Earth you really will come for me and I will see you, and I’ll hear you. You’ll be running, as will I, with arms open wide and once again I will be full and not broken. Until then I’ll take these moments with you and I’ll breathe. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. And I’ll hold onto each and every beautiful memory that I have.   I miss you sweet boy and I love you so very much. Bigger than a bus times a million.   Momxo

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0 Comments

  1. A beautiful letter to Will, Joni. Missing him and so wishing he was here. I hope you find many smiles with your family in Fernie while you reminisce and make new memories. Biggest hugs to you all. XOXOXO

    Reply

    1. Thanks, Mary. Having Justin and Ben there made it special. It really is the most important thing, the only thing that matters. It’s good to be here. Not sure I’m ready for the provincial park yet. Thanks for your hugs! Xo

      Reply

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