TORONTO - Soon, Canadians from all walks of life will again turn out along the "Highway of Heroes" to offer the nation's embrace to fallen soldiers returning from Afghanistan.
  
But this time it will be a little different.

The deaths of Cpl. Mark Robert McLaren, Pte. Demetrios Diplaros and Warrant Officer Robert John Wilson brought the military toll on the mission to 100.

Their remains are due to arrive at CFB Trenton on Monday (2 p.m. ET).

For many, the grim 100 milestone may be cause for a bit more reflection, a time of reckoning, as they join the largely spontaneous tradition of honouring the war dead from the roadside.

The public outpouring of respect and affection along the stretch of Highway 401 between Trenton, Ont., and Toronto has come to both symbolize and recognize Canada's mounting sacrifice in Afghanistan.

It's as if citizens at the grassroots level want to personally do something to assuage the loss of a compatriot who paid the ultimate price in service to country.

"The public response to the casualties, I think, has been quite extraordinary," remarked historian Jack Granatstein.

"I have never seen anything in my life like the crowds that line Highway 401 ... Extraordinary displays of public sentiment in all kinds of weather, ranging from heat to cold to rain. The same crowds are out there all the time."

"The public supports the troops -- I have no doubt."

The scene has become a familiar one played out over and over again, yet the poignancy of the ritual remains undiminished -- it seems to grow with each enactment.

At CFB Trenton, a guard of honour carries the soldiers' remains from the military aircraft onto the tarmac. The family gathers alongside dignitaries and military officials to mourn the loss of their sons, husbands and brothers.

Outside the base, a crowd gathers to watch the repatriation ceremony through the chain-link fence.

Though the families, dignitaries and soldiers are tiny figures in the distance, the onlookers share the downcast mood. Some bow their heads, others hold hands. Many wear red clothing to salute the troops. They clutch Canadian flags in their hands.

The aching silence is broken only rarely. The wail of a young child cut through the sombre stillness at one late-summer repatriation.

The only opportunity for the two groups to communicate comes just before the motorcade embarks on the 172-kilometre journey along the section of road that the Ontario government has dedicated as the "Highway of Heroes."

As they drive out of the gate, the soldier's family members could reach out of the opague windows of the black limousines to wave to the crowd. The fleeting gesture would complete the circle for many who brave the elements to honour the troops.

"It's to show respect for the families," said Jim Dixon of Belleville, Ont., a regular of the repatriation ceremonies. "Because it's a terrible loss, what they're going through right now."

No members of his family are in the military, but he said it's still important for him to show his support.

Marlene Livingston, of Richmond Hill, Ont., said observing the repatriation from a distance was the only way to show the families her support.

"I'd love to be able to reach out and hug them, but I can't. I find this way, I am hugging them. They see that there are a lot of people that appreciate their sacrifices," she said.

The sentiment is reciprocated.

Tim Fitzgerald, uncle of Cpl. Andrew Grenon of Windsor, Ont., thanked the hundreds who lined the highway when his nephew's body came home in early September.

"We've all witnessed this incredible spectacle on TV or read about it the newspaper, but never in our wildest dreams could we ever have imagined the outpouring of love and gratitude," said Fitzgerald.

"You are indeed so very special and we wish we could reach out to each and every one of you and give you a big hug and kiss."

In the afternoon heat of a summer's afternoon, Maureen Campeau stood on an overpass near Brighton, Ont., with only a camouflage-coloured hat decorated in military pins and other paraphernalia to shelter her from the sun.

She was one of dozens of people waiting for cortege of a dead soldier to pass beneath. Campeau has three brothers-in-law in the Canadian Forces.

"It's the only way you can say thank you," she said. "When you lose someone close to you, it's nice to know that other people are there to support you."

The hearse's approach was heralded by a single black police car, its siren wailing. The overpass fell silent as people waved their flags or simply stood and stared, some with hands over their mouths.

Afterward, Cindy Clitherow picked up her baby and took her four-year-old daughter by the hand.

"It's interesting to explain this to a four-year-old, but she understands what she can, and I think it's important that she's here," Clitherow said.

Sometimes, at other overpasses and intersections, firefighters would stand and salute from their truck. Police officers would dismount from their motorcycles to show tribute to the dead soldier.

Veterans stand at attention on the side of the road and dip their regimental colours. The Maple Leaf is on display on overpass railings, flown at half-mast, held in people's arms.

It's a two-hour drive from Trenton to Toronto. Road signs saying "Highway of Heroes" can be seen from the motorcade.

At the end of the journey, a morgue awaits.