"Before setting off on an early-morning patrol on Wednesday through some of the most dangerous territory in Kandahar province, Lt. Justin Boyes phoned his 3-year-old son and wished him good night several time zones away. Boyes, 26, was killed by a roadside bomb just hours later." - The Toronto Star, October 20, 2009
I started my Halloween morning like most other Saturdays with a big cup of coffee and the puzzles in the Saturday morning paper. It was a wet morning though the weather man promised a dry, temperate night for the trick-or-treaters. I didn't quite get around to doing all my Halloween chores yesterday so I still needed to carve the pumpkin and put out a few more decorations. My visit to the dollar store yesterday was fruitless. They were completely out of webs and pumpkin stencils so I decided a trip to Bayview Village was in order. First though, I needed to stop by our neighbours place to drop off the balance of the Halloween costume I bought for their dog Dora. I dropped off the spiderweb coat on Thursday but had misplaced the matching boots. I decided to jump right into the spirit of the day so I dressed in black from head to toe, applied white makeup to my face, neck and chest and smudged a little black and green around my eyes and a few places other places to create a truly ghoulish effect all the while reminding myself that ghouls just want to have fun.
I managed to do my shopping, carve the pumpkin and spread out the spiderwebs across all the bushes by about 2:30. The scariest thing was that no one in the grocery or drug store seemed to register that I looked any stranger than usual. Around 2:30, my friend and neighbour, Brian called to tell me he and his wife Geraldine (Dora's parents) were planning to go to the overpass on the 401 to stand on the stretch which has been designated as the Highway of Heroes. The body of Canada's 132nd soldier killed in Afghanistan was on its way home. Brian invited me to join them.
I washed the ghoulish makeup off my face and changed into a Canada shirt. When we first arrived, there were about fifteen people there. One man had already hung several large Canadian flags and all the provincial flags along the overpass. By the time the convoy of cars carrying the body of Lt. Boyes, his military escort, police escort and family members passed below us, there were about 60 people gathered at the overpass. Most had been there too many times before. They are the families of fallen soldiers or of soldiers who are serving in Afghanistan. Some were soldiers themselves. There were paramedics and police and firemen. There were ordinary people, like me, who want to do something, no matter how small, to honour the sacrifice of these young men and women. The wind was blowing at a fast clip and ominous, dark clouds were gathering in the sky. We waited about forty minutes. Cars and trucks traveling along the highway, honked and waved as we waited. The 401 was, as always, traffic laden in both directions. And then, it stopped. Silence. No cars on the highway coming toward us. All cars stopped in the lanes heading away from us. The police escorts came first - about six motorcycles and ten police cars followed by the hearse and the cars of the family. The windows were down in the family cars and in each car, hands were extended from the windows, waving at us, acknowledging us in silence. In a matter of moments, the motorcade had passed. We said goodbye to one another. Most people muttering, "See you Monday" which is when the body of the 133rd soldier killed in Afghanistan will make its way home along the same Highway of Heroes.
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