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Welcome to Willy’s World of Adventure!

“I thought ice cream came from the store!” Willy was speechless, he had no idea how or where ice cream was made and that it took so much work. The more Jocelyn taught Willy, the more ice cream became his most favorite dessert!

Meet Willy Wuz. A Wuddle from a place called Wuddeltom. No one knows exactly where it is,

but it is somewhere between here and there and around the bend. Wuddles love all sorts of

things including nature, music, playing games but most of all... their favourite thing in the

whole world are stories. One other thing that Willy loves...is ice cream. 

Do you love ice cream? How about animals? I’ll bet you like to make new friends? Well this will be a wonderful adventure for you.

Curious and determined, Willy Wuz visits a local dairy farm in search of an ice cream adventure, to discover where his favourite Sweet Treat comes from. Explore your world with Willy, find adventure, learn something new and meet many new friends along the way. We are so happy and excited you are here, come and be part of WWOA - Willy’s World of Adventure!

With a roll of the dice, as they slipped out of my hand I knew that I had lost.  It was my last roll and chance.  I lost the game because I needed that Yahtzee...only two more sixes, and yet staring back at me were two ones.  As I looked at my father I smiled and I knew that the game was nowhere near as important as the time we were spending together. My thoughts drifting back to when I was a child and thought that my father hated me or at least did not like me so very much.  I base that opinion on the fact he did not tell me he loved me, not once do I recall him saying those words to me.  The disbelief and disappointment in his eyes when I could not recite the 9x table without stopping or crying.  The way he was more interested in cleaning up my mess than the painting I just created for him.  

“You cheated” I accuse him with a  smirk on my face.  “Did not, I am just that good.”  the smirk slips away and is replaced with a straight face and a tear, “yes you are..” I whisper more to me than to him.  Thinking of the fact that I had to leave in the morning to catch my flight home made me lose my breath and shed another tear.  “Shall we play  another game?”  I asked as I collected the dice and pens placing them gently in the box for Yahtzee.

No reply.  Dad stood up and shuffled to the counter and got himself another cup of coffee.  He looked like a distorted transposed penguin.  His plaid slippers scuffing on the linoleum, his black and white housecoat tied neatly at the waist over top of his pale blue pyjama set.  His complexion fair and normal.  His black hair, now grey and thin, looking dishevelled no matter how often he pet it down.  His glasses spotted with fingerprints and his moustache matching the snow on top of the mountain as they say.  His eyes... they were not the same.  I followed his glance to the garden out back as I put the game back on the bookshelf in the corner of the kitchen.

“Who put that fountain in the yard?”  Dad was looking at a small three-foot water feature that proudly spouted a small spray and a whisper of water droplets falling in a soothing pitter patter that could only be heard if you were sitting in the Muskoka chair next to it.  “We did dad..remember?  When I arrived earlier this week...we went to Home Hardware?”

A blink another blink and a breath…”Oh right...yes”  a sip of coffee…” must be tired and forgot..”

“Are you up for another game Dad?”

“Scrabble it is.” Dad proclaimed as he automatically reached for the cane that was resting against the counter under where the coffee pot was sitting.  The wooden cane that had become part of Dad, when he would remember to use it.  In one hand his coffee, the other the cane which matched his shuffle, that extra support to keep his balance so he would not fall as often. I pull another box from the bookshelf and return to the kitchen table.

Pulling out the wooden letter holders I look at mine in my hand.  These simple little wooden pieces.  These things always make me think of pews in a church.  The plain wood, and soft curve and ridge to allow the letter tiles to rest until called upon to create a new word.  My mind drifts just for a moment to the church I was in just the days before flying to Ottawa.  The beautiful stained glass tableaux all around.  The pews, hard wood, carved and polished and yet somehow in that moment the most comforting seat I would find. 

“10 points to start” pipes up dad proudly as he lays the letter D on a double letter square on the board followed by R A M A.  DRAMA.  The comedy and tragedy of life.  The irony of this day, the last day that Dad will live in his own home. A day where his balance of clarity and being able to live in the present is the strongest it has been in months. Able to play games, but yet not remember where his own bathroom is in his home.  Today and tomorrow I pray the dementia steals these memories first and fast, as to not let him live in the feeling of defeat and humiliation, understanding what has happened, of no longer being “HOME” but having to live in a nursing home for the rest of his days.

 As if a magic wand was waved over his head, he looks up at me with clarity and focus in his eyes.  He looks me straight in my eyes.  “Jennifer.  I love you and am so proud of you.”  “thank you, Dad.  I love you too.”

In the background, I hear Judy Garland singing, somewhere over the rainbow.  Funny how things like a song connect moment in our lives.  Judy sang for Dad and me as we finished our last game of scrabble asking that great question of why oh why can’t I?  Judy once again sings for me, just me as I sit in my car at the funeral home looking up at the blue sky full of white clouds...the question of why?  The memory of that last day we spent in dad’s home.  Grateful for this song to draw up a bounty of memories, good and bad, sad and happy. 

I look up at my opponent, not my Dad, but my life partner and I lay the first letter in my last word, down goes the letter L, in this game of scrabble and I spell out the word but also the sentiment of sorrow for how my dad spent the last part of his life and how I am currently feeling in this moment of mine.  L O S T.