I suffer a mini- heart attack (or at least, serious heartburn) every time I hear word of a fallen soldier, Canadian or otherwise, in the news. I frantically read the headlines, caption, and scroll down to fish out the names of the soldiers who have been killed. Feel overcome with sadness and then relief when I learn he’s not among them.
My ex-boyfriend has been in Afghanistan for 8 months now. He’s a Captain, a nurse with aspirations of completing further training to become a doctor, and is kept busy stitching up and saving the wounded in Kandahar. He was supposed to return at Christmas, then in February, then early this month in time for our birthdays and a “date” to see the Ottawa Sens play in the playoffs. Now, I’m not sure when he’s coming home; I haven’t heard from him since March.
We’re still close, but we don’t see each other often because he lives out by my parent’s place and God knows, I don’t go home often enough. It’s no excuse but it’s the truth; school and work keep me insanely busy for ¾ of the year.
Saturday, four Canadian soldiers were killed in a roadside bomb attack that was the worst one-day combat loss in five decades, since 1953 during the Korean War. Since 2002, sixteen Canadians have died since this formerly U.S.-led “War on Afghanistan” began. That’s too many and those that continue to fight remain ill-equipped. My thoughts and prayers go out to their families. One can only imagine their grief.
I do not agree with the Conservative government’s decision not to lower the flag to half-mast at all national buildings, regardless of whether the reason is the result of a “return to tradition”. Here in Ottawa, it seems like they are thumbing their noses at the final sacrifice these soldiers have made. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to honour our soldiers, not once, but twice or as many times as is necessary. This kind of sacrifice should be honoured every day—not merely once a year on November 11th.
It’s a sad day.
