The Procession

On our way back from out of town last night, Rob happened to turn on the radio to the news/weather/traffic station and we were informed that the Don Valley Parkway was closed for "The Procession". My stomach contracted as the reality of what those two words meant. The latest six fallen Canadian soldiers were on their way from a repatriation ceremony at CFB Trenton, after being received by their loved ones, to the Coroner's Office here in downtown Toronto. This has been the protocol for all of our dead, once they have been returned from the field.

We were almost home when I turned to Rob and said that I would like to see it, if possible. We headed up to Bloor Street, with the hopes of making our way to the bridge spanning the Parkway. As we made the turn towards the intersection, I could see the flashing lights of police cruisers and an officer with his flourescent green traffic vest stopping all traffic on Church Street, while directing the dwindling traffic on Bloor Street onto nearby side streets. The guys in the car beside me asked what was going on and after I explained it to them, the passenger in the car said, "So you mean we're just going to have to sit here until its over?" I gave him a rather terse "Yes".

Finally, there was no traffic and at Rob's suggestion, I got out of the car and walked to the corner. People were out strolling, enjoying the hot summer evening, their faces showing confusion as to why one of the largest streets in downtown Toronto had suddenly grown eerily quiet, police and flashing lights all around them. I think they sensed something important was happening but I doubt any of them really knew the significance of the moment. I distinctly heard the crackle of a walkie talkie on the belt of the officer nearest to me and a voice say, "They are at Castlefrank." This is the exit from the DVP to Bloor Street.

Suddenly the quiet of the night was broken by the sound of sirens and the officers all around us snapped to attention, saluting the empty street. The lights from three police motorcycles approached us from the east and as Rob joined me on the corner, I grabbed his hand with my left hand and put my right hand over my heart as the first of the six hearses came into view. I was expecting them but it was still a shock to see them so close. Tears rolled down my face when I realized how many dark limos were following them for I knew they were filled with the families and friends of the fallen. They seemed to stretch on forever.

As suddenly as it began, it was over. Rob and I made out way back to the car and I noticed that the passengers in the cars all around us were quiet. Within minutes, the cops were gone, the traffic was moving and it was if the moment never happened. To my mind, the ultimate sacrifice paid by these young men, along with their families, and the thousands of men who came before them, should be honoured daily as a reminder to all of us to treasure this country and the riches found in our everyday lives.