I have a picture posted on one of the walls of my cubicle at work. Each day over the last eleven days, I’ve been placing poppies around the edges of the picture. Eleven days, eleven poppies. The picture is of a young man in an Air Force uniform, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes twinkling.

I was named after this man. His name was Eric William MacDonald, and he was a sergeant in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He was stationed in England and was a gunner aboard a Lancaster bomber. Returning to England from a mission, they were coming in for a landing in a dense fog. The pilot misjudged the runway, and the plane crashed. All aboard were killed.

My uncle was twenty years old.

Today, I’m remembering him, even though I’ve never met him. My mom was eleven years old when he died.

I wish I’d known him. He was Mom’s hero.

And he’s my hero too.

Thanks, Uncle Eric, for going overseas to face grave and terrible dangers for your country, and for the rights and freedoms of all of us alive today.

Thanks to every person who has ever served their country, and to all those who are serving their country right now. You have, and continue to, make a difference.

I hope you took time to remember today too.

Thanks for visiting.