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Today is Remembrance Day in Canada, Australia and the UK, which corresponds with Armistice Day in France and many other countries, and Veteran’s Day in the US.

Groups and individuals across my country will recognize the sacrifice and service of the men and women in our armed forces with readings, music, the laying of wreaths, flyovers, salutes, and a moment of silence.

The felt poppies people wear to symbolize remembrance have been everywhere for weeks. I’ve had the chance to chat with a few of the veterans giving them out by donation, since the pins in the poppies never seem to hold in my clothing. I’m leaving a trail of them across Vancouver.

There’s no way putting my coins in their change boxes compares to what they’ve given, or if any sort of thank you would be enough.

We both know that in the moment, though. And yet still they thank me.

I recall standing in Vancouver’s Victory Square for the annual ceremony a couple of years ago, holding hands for a few moments with an old man next to me who was there alone, just like I was.

We chatted about the day, about how I looked a little like the girl he’d married… and how he still had the chops to pick up 30 year-olds on the street with lines like that.

We giggled. He had a great wink.

Then we were both red-eyed and silent, listening to “The Last Post” and watching the planes soar overhead.

In that moment, the imbalance of my remembrance against his sacrifice made the day more real than it had ever been for me before. But even so, he thanked me at the end for coming out (and laughed at me being all blubbery in response.)

It was my privilege. And not nearly enough, again.

But still important.

So for him and all those like him, and for those that continue to fight in unimaginable places and situations, I commemorate this day.

We remember.