Healing at The Highway

"The wish for healing has always been half of health." - Lucius Annaeus Seneca

 

It has been an interesting week.  After eleven weeks of agony, my back problems mysteriously began to subside.  I'm not all the way healed yet but I have come far enough that I'm managing the pain with Advil and living a pretty normal existence.  I knew I had come a really long way when I managed using both feet to climb the stairs.  I was wondering if I would ever be able to do that again.  I've shopped, attended an all day seminar, done a significant amount of driving and even sat up and had enough concentration to make a couple pieces of jewellery.  

Like all Canadians I was hard hit by the death of Corporal Nathan Cirillo on Wednesday.  When I heard Friday morning that his body was being brought home that afternoon along the Highway of Heroes, I decided I would stand on the overpass alongside many others as a sign of respect.  I know Corporal Cirillo wouldn't see me, but I did it for his mother.  It was she who went to Ottawa to bring her baby home.  Brian and Geraldine were also planning to stand on the overpass and Cath decided to join us.  The hearse was expected to pass us at about 6 o'clock.  We arrived around 5 and waited.  It was a lovely day but when the sun started to set, there was a distinct chill in the air.  There were already about fifty people on the overpass when we arrived and more than a hundred by the time the hearse passed.  It was close to 7 o'clock.  The procession travelled much slower than was anticipated. There were thousands of people lining the highways and overpasses from Ottawa all the way to Hamilton.  It was dark by the time it reached us.  It was also eerily silent though we were many people.  The only sounds were waving flags and sniffles.  It was sad.  The rear window of one of the limousines in the procession opened and a hand emerged, waving an acknowledgement to the crowd.  A couple of moments later, it was gone.  We quietly returned to our cars, mumbling to the strangers we had stood with that we hoped never to meet this way again.  I remembered that is what we said to one another the last time I stood there in honour of a soldier killed in Afghanistan.  When we pulled out of that war zone, I hoped that was the end of my time standing in wait for a fallen soldier.  I certainly didn't fathom I would be there to honour a young man killed in our own nation by one of our own citizens.

I certainly don't regret the hours spent waiting yesterday.  But two hours on the concrete in the cold did set me back.  I ramped up my pain meds and have spent some time in bed.  I will heal.  I hope that seeing the outpouring of support and respect from a proud and grateful nation, will help Corporal Cirillo's mother to heal a little too.