Every time Squirt and I go visit Pte Goof we drive down the entire length of the Highway of Heroes. You know, the highway that the bodies of all of our fallen boys are taken down after landing in Trenton on the way to the coroner’s in Toronto. It kills me every single time. I have to drive the whole length of it. Every sign a reminder that one day it could be him. I shouldn’t think this way. Inevitably I’ll spend at least part of the drive in tears. But I can’t help it. It almost seems like a cruel joke to me that there’s no way to go visit my soldier than to take this route. Thankfully Squirt sleeps most of the way so I can shed a few tears and he doesn’t hear. But my God is it a long drive for me.
It’s so stupid that my mind always does this to me. I wish I could think of other things, but every sign denoting the road has a poppy on it. Because every dead soldier travels it. I think it’s a good thing, that this road has been dedicated to the fallen soldiers. I think that people need reminders that there are men and women dying out in the world serving their country. But damn, is that a long hard drive for me.