Parliament Hill is a very special place. Few of us have even seen it never mind understand what happens there. It matters because it’s for all of us. Everyone is represented there. Every man, woman and child in this country is there. We want to believe it’s a place where only the politicians loftily come and go but men and women of every walk of life are there too. Cooks, messengers, researchers, writers, journalists, librarians, barbers, stationers, upholsters, carpenters, guards, pages, clerks. Every walk of life. All of us. It’s Canada’s greatest home town.
Something has changed forever. I want our country back. I want our Wednesday back. Where caucus meetings fire up the troops with partisan fervour instead of guns. Where members tear each other’s words, rather than flesh, apart during Question Period.
The Hall of Honour echoed with gun fire. In all its marble and granite glory, the sound must have been deafening. Let that be the loudest and final scream of anarchy we ever experience.
While on guard for our bravest moments as a country, a young, volunteer reservist full of life and promise died of a cowardly act. Now we mourn. Never must we forget.
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