First day of spring and the emptiness of a chair
Posted By JOE BARKOVICH
Posted 2 hours ago
Spring weather came to this lakeside community a few days ahead of schedule.
Outdoors, people walked wearing short-sleeve shirts, short pants and the bravest among them -- sandals.
Joggers were out and about, sans winter garb. Front-yard gardens, kissed by the sun, showed signs of new life and in so doing, provided the reassurance that comes in the cyclical nature of the seasons. In such little things, things too often taken for granted, we are reminded: Life goes on.
Now the calendar tells us that officially, today is spring's first day.
But for the family of Cpl. Tyler Crooks, spring's arrival is overshadowed by this date's once joyous, now wrenching, significance.
Tyler was born this day, 25 years ago.
Tyler was killed this day, one year ago.
What a difference a year makes.
Spring returns and life goes on, but for the Crooks family it is not the same. Life is not the same.
Some of the time, a community can bask in the glare of publicity that comes with a soldier's return -- on short-term leave, or for good after completion of a tour of duty -- to his or her home town.
But such was not the case for Tyler, for his family or for the extended family that Port Colborne and all of Niagara became just a year ago.
We did not bask, we bowed our heads in shock and silence, and mourned.
Who can forget the headline: "'Crooksie' was a hero" (The Tribune,Monday, March 23, 2009).
Who can forget how, during those days, private grief became a public sharing, how a family's private lives played out on the public stage as a community watched and whispered and wept.
The roadside bomb in Afghanistan that took Tyler's life and that of another young soldier, Sault Ste. Marie's Master Cpl. Scott Vernelli, brought the reality of war to front doorsteps on Killaly St., and Humboldt Parkway, on Nickel St. and Tennessee Ave.; at Lakeshore Catholic and Port Colborne High; at St. Therese and McKay schools and all the others; at west side's Tim's and east side's Dairy Queen.
In times like this, death is all inclusive.
Across the community, people reeled with the realization: One of ours has fallen.
The roadside bomb stole a cherished son, brother, grandson, cousin, future husband and friend to many.
A life cut short while in its springtime; hopes were dashed, plans cancelled, dreams ended.
I can picture the happiness in this household at family gatherings such as birthday celebrations.
From what I have been told, from what I have seen and read, the Crooks are close-knit people, a loving, caring, compassionate family: mom Karen, dad Alfie, brother Tage, fiancee Kelly Maxwell and all the others.
They have yearbook photos over which to reminisce, family albums, scrapbooks, too, no doubt. This and other personal memorabilia will help keep the memories fresh, the ties that bind strong.
But let's not forget a chair at the table. Chairs go overlooked, they are anchors in our lives, places of some permanence.
The empty chair, Tyler's chair, is another reminder of the good times enjoyed over the years -- birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas and the like.
But the empty chair also brings home the depth and breadth of this unbearable loss. Such conflicting emotions to be found in an empty chair at the family table.
Luckily, we have the comfort of being forever reminded of the honour that is in dying a wartime hero and the eternal debt owed those who give up their lives for their country in time of war.
There is the eloquence expressed in the First World War-era poet Laurence Binyon's writing: "At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them."
And the soldier's tribute by Horace, the Roman poet who wrote more than 2,000 years ago: "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori."It means, "It is sweet and decorous to die for our country."
And who can forget this headline: "You're our hero, Tyler" (The Tribune,Monday, March 30, 2009).
Finally, the most meaningful comment saved purposely for last, words tendered only yesterday by the family of Cpl. Tyler Crooks, the Port Colborne boy of whom we are proud: "Our hearts are forever broken as those words ring through our ears: 'Don't worry, I'll be home in a month' and 'This isn't goodbye, it's I'll see you soon.' From our home to yours please fly your Canadian Flag proudly and Support our Troops."
jbarkovich@wellandtribune.caArticle ID# 2501111
