You Are The Boss After All

ByJoni Bouchard
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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  • The Afterglow of a Bike Ride

     
    Will's Friends Ride For Will!
    Will’s Friends Ride For Will!
    Wednesday, June 18, 2014   Dear Will,   On Saturday, your Third Annual Ride For Will was held here in the community that was (and still is) your home. It was a beautiful day sandwiched between two rainy ones and my fingers were crossed, hopeful that you’d help out by keeping the rain away…. In the back of my mind I was preparing for a ten minute down pour at some point during the event, your signature “gotcha!” way of wanting to always have the last word, and in the end I was thrilled that you waited until we were safe inside.   Three years and three rides have yielded almost $150,000 to your Foundation and I am still awestruck at what happens on this day each June that we call The Ride For Will. People, young and old, show up with smiles and pledges, with hugs and support, not only to benefit your Foundation, but to honor you and show their support for Dad and I and your brothers. It is a memorable and most beautiful bittersweet day that renews our hope that you will never be forgotten. To me, there is something timeless about a bike. The simple pleasure it provides and the freedom it symbolizes is a right of passage in our neck of the woods for each and every child that grows up in this community. I will always remember the excitement that precluded any bike ride into Bragg Creek for icecream or candy and when you and your friends could do it without an adult ride-a-long, quite frankly, you’d hit the big time. Now, Will, your friends are driving to the city in their cars instead of packing their pockets with loose change to buy candy and icecream and that alone is difficult to accept at times. The passing of time is indeed a tough pill to swallow and I am quite sure it always will be.   What is magical about your Ride is that your friends and people who didn’t have the chance to know you show up with their bikes, adorned with WillPower bands, and I Ride For Will stickers on their helmets and bikes. They ride and stop at the refreshment stations and fill up on free candy and freeze pops, pedal to the school and back passing all of the familiar landmarks that were second nature to you. When I see your buddies on their bikes they magically become twelve again and though you aren’t there, YOU ARE. I am hopeful that you will always be with them in some way.  Whenever I see a boy on a bike, I am immediately thrown back into the many memories of you ripping out of the cul-de-sac with your pant leg tucked in your sock (if you weren’t wearing shorts!) in a hurry to meet a friend or two at the bike jumps or the soccer field or at a friend’s house to play. Those were the gifts of an ordinary day growing up here and memories that I will always treasure.   The Apres Ride BBQ and Silent Auction/Raffles that follow your Ride are amazing too. The love and support that shows up at our community Redwood House in burgers and icecream, in items donated for people to bid on and the lure of a raffle item is also magical. The entire day is beyond anything that I can describe and when I think back to three years ago how a few friends suggested and asked if they could organize a family bike ride for us in your memory I am overwhelmed at how it all started and how it has evolved and how it has continued…   It is no secret that you are in my thoughts every minute of every day, Will. My days begin and end with you and on Saturday, June 14th it was evident that you were on the minds of many who were there to support and remember and celebrate your life cut short. I know you were looking down on all of us with your big Willy smile and bluer than blue eyes. Since your tragic passing, it has always been our hope that something good could be born of something so tragic. There is healing for us knowing that in your memory what began as the simple pleasure of a bike ride has grown and taken on an identity of its own. The Annual Ride For Will allows us through your Foundation to make a difference in the world and that just feels right and feels good.   Now as I bask in the afterglow of Saturday’s Ride For YOU my heart feels a little lighter and oh, so full. You, little Blue, are quite a boy.   Love you like a bus on a bike, (and only you could make sense of that!)     Momxo

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  • And So Winter Begins…

    snow
    My three boys loving the snow!

    Sunday, November 2, 2014

     

    Holy Cow, Will!

     

    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.

     

    snowman

    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.

     

    Will on the podium.jpg

    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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  • 12 Years x a Million

    Will School Photo

    May 18, 2023

    My dearest, sweet Will,

    It is May again and your Angel date is approaching. I need not look at a calendar to know that it is soon because I can feel it. The days feel different; off kilter, off axis. My sleep is disturbed, my mind is pre-occupied, my focus distant. I’m somewhere else. I am with you x a million.

    Quite simply, I miss you, Willy. There are no words on earth that can quantify just how much I do. You will always be the brightest star in the nighttime sky and my biggest reason to find my way in this world. You are love and hope x a million and on days like this I close my eyes and allow my tears to fall. Only then can I go to that place in my heart where your little light cannot be extinguished. It is in that place that love turns sadness into smiles and hope into strength. It is here where I find gratitude in every single ordinary day that we shared and where I am reminded that grief and sadness are really just the price of love… x a million.

    I’ll be looking for you this weekend, Will. I’ll find you in all sorts of places; I always do. I will look at your bright little star in the nighttime sky and I’ll stare long enough to see you twinkle right back at me. 

    I miss you and I love you, sweet boy. More than a bus and 12 years x a million.

    Momxo

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  • The Five or So People You Meet in Heaven

    Will – Grade 7 Basketball

    March 16, 2017

     

    Dear Will,

     

    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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  • Where the Rainforest Meets the Sea

    Vancouver Island

    Sunday, September 24, 2017

    Dear Will,

    As a citizen of this beautiful country and the place I am proud and happy to call home I have this desire to plant my feet on the two outermost coasts of Canada — one the furthest point east on PEI and the other the furthest point west on Vancouver Island. And so, Will, here I am crossing the furthest place west off of my bucket list. Dad and I and Finn travelled by car and ferry to the west side of Vancouver Island, to a place “where the rainforest meets the sea” in Super Natural British Columbia. Those two slogans have captured the very essence of where we were perfectly.

    We spent a couple of days on Mackenzie Beach near the bustling little town of Tofino, not surprisingly loving and appreciating all the fresh seafood and at the same time surprised at how abundant the surf culture is there. It’s such a remote area where there is a surf shop or two or three and a fish and chip shack on every corner. I’m not naive enough to have thought there would be no surfing… after all it is the big wave side of the island, but holy cow, Will… The. Water. Is. Freezing! All. The. Time! I crossed off my bucket list a walk on Long Beach where we dipped our toes in the cold Pacific Ocean. This beach known by storm watchers in the winter and surfers the rest of the year is the furthest one can go before the Pacific Ocean eats up land. As I stood there I was reminded of two things. One, the next landform is Japan, thousands of miles away, and two — that you are pretty darn small when you stand beside the ocean where the next piece of land is Japan.

    Mother Nature is definitely the boss here and sometimes I think we all to need to be reminded of the respect she commands. It was cool (ok, cold) and it had rained (heavily at times) but we managed also to find a window here and there where she gave us a beautiful blue sky and some sunshine. That coast line is known for its raw beauty, for the storms that roll in off the Pacific and for the array of clothing one must own if you want to spend some time there. Rubber boots and a warm, rain jacket are a definite must in that part of Canada and if you’re a surfer… well, you’ll need a wet/dry suit made of thick black rubber to cover every part of your body other than your eyeballs and your nostrils.

    Tofino

    We spent 9 days, much of it, rolling along the highways in our vehicle, listening to music and a few downloaded podcasts, stopping to pick up coffees (and timbits for Finn) at the no shortage of Tim Horton’s along the way. We stopped in Kelowna and spent some time with your Uncle Jim, and in the Shuswap, too, to see your Auntie Mindie rounding out the new sights with familiar ones where we made many memories with you over the years. So many happy times we had together, Will. Those memories still bring tears as they were just the very best of times.

    Our adventure to the west coast is behind us now and as we head east along the TransCanada nearing our home in Redwood Meadows I’m also reminded that there is no place like home. The memories that abound there in our home and in our community will always make the little place we call our home so very special. It was an awesome week away and all along the way I felt you sitting happy and tall on my left shoulder (where I’m told the boy angels sit). I love that wherever I go you come along. In my heart and on my left shoulder.

    I love you, sweet boy. Like a bus on a long beach on the furthest place west where the rainforest meets the sea in the country we proudly get to call our home. And then like that same bus parked in our driveway in Redwood Meadows where the basketball net meets the cul-de-sac.


    Momxo

     

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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

  1. You have a beautiful way with your words to help us see everything in your light and make us feel like we all knew Will. As a mom who also lost a son it actually amazes me where I am and what I am doing or what I see that makes me instantly think of Chad. Because of this I know he is always with me and I find that very comforting. Thank you for sharing your stories with us all.

    Reply

    1. It really is remarkable when our hearts are open to seeing and hearing our loved one. And just when we think we’ve dropped the ball they ping us to let us know they are with us. Always. Every step. Every day. I love this, too, Shelly. Sending you some big love, mom to mom. 💙💙

      Reply

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