William, you came into this world in a big brass bed in a birth center, wowing everyone at your size. The notes I’ve received from your colleagues in remembrance of you show that never stopped.

You were always a little timid and so terribly affectionate. So quiet as a baby, I’d look over to see you lying quietly next to me, your big moon eyes gazing inquisitively. Always wanting to be held. You taught me the skill of cooking and shopping and cleaning with a baby in sling; you just loved to be up high, seeing the world from an adult’s point of view.

You grew up with a smile on your face, that always reached your eyes. It was infectious.

You had the best of both world in siblings. Cole catered to your desire to be physical and run and jump and build things; giving me palpitations when you would play Attack of the Midgets on the trampoline.

Tess let you explore your quiet side, and I would often find you together reading quietly, or playing with your Thomas the Tank set.

You so badly wanted to be able to do all the things Tess and Cole could, and when I would put you in the bath, you would tell me over and over that you wanted to take a ‘chowder’ not a bath, as they did.

We all loved our giant baby boy, and watched you grow up sweetly smiling and laughing as your hair grew longer and your voice grew deeper. You were so sensitive and creative; your expert pumpkin carving skills and love of cooking and baking with me were beautiful sides of you that I’m glad you got to explore.

I remember you and your siblings loved sharing what you learned or found online together. You introduced me to so much music, and so many comedians that I still listen to. That laughter you brought me will be part of your legacy.

As you matured, you expanded those you touched. You had our family, and you had your gaming family, and I know that online community was very important to you as you struggled with being shy and anxious and taller than everyone else in High School. You just wanted to hide behind your hair and your hoodie and not stand out.

But you kept growing and changing into a man in front of all of us. So skinny that summer you stretched up 4 full inches over two months. Cole started taking you to the gym and one of my favorite observances that you made was when you came out of the shower shirtless and I said, “well look at you getting buff” and you turned your head and flexed your arms and told me, your arms were no longer tubes, now they had bumps. That will never not bring a smile to my face.

You dreamed of flying, and nothing I said would dissuade you from joining the Air Force immediately out of high school. Your father and I dangled commercial flying lessons and college tuition in front of you, but you never wavered for a second.

I know bootcamp and the physical toll of your SERE training changed you into a different man, but you were so glowingly proud of scoring a loadmaster position. The places you saw, and the colleagues you befriended enhanced your life and matured you in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

I’m so sorry for the pain you lived with in your last months. I’m so sorry you felt you had to bear that alone. We all wish we could’ve magically known and flown to the rescue. You had love and help from all three of your families, biological, online, and your Air Force family. The fact that life was unbearable to you even with all of us in your corner hurts me in a way that ensures I’ll never be the same again. I’m sure we will all try to recall smiling, baking man that you were, and keep your memory alive in all the ways you deserve. I love you, my Wille Bear. 

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