The Tears Tooks Me By Surprise

Yesterday I was coming home from work and discovered that I was either right in front of or right behind a motorcade that was bringing home some of our Canadian soldiers from Afghanistan. Or rather, some of our fallen Canadian soldiers.

There are at least 6 bridges between the exit I get onto the QEW and the exit home. Each one had a crowd of people standing and watching over the highway. Most of them had firetrucks and other service workers, flags, and one even had a flag that read "Support Our Troops". And I knew...although I had not seen or heard the news, I knew that some of our boys had come home. And a few tears started to slip out. Just a few.

Then I got to the exit for home and I seriously lost it. Full out tears and sobs. There was an honour guard set up and the press. And a load more people. One of these young people must have been from here.

I don't know him. I don't even know his name. But I am a military child. I grew up on bases and in military schools. I lived overseas during the Cold War. And part of all of that means that for me, this is part of my family. These young men and women are a part of who I am and where I came from. Not that long ago, this could have been my Dad or one of my friends' fathers. Or my neighbour. Or... well, you get the picture. This is my family too.

So I cried.

I got home to find my husband and the boys just getting ready to go for a walk. Xander saw that I was crying and came over and asked me why. So I told him, "A soldier died." And he leaned into me, hugged me, and said, "Mommy, I am sorry your soldier died." in the sweetest little voice.

Yes, he is my soldier. And yours, Xander and Liam. And all of ours. Let's remember each and every one. Let's honour them for this great sacrifice. Let's thank them and their families too.

But remember...they are our soldiers. Let's care most of all.