The other night I spent an hour on the phone with my sister and we talked about this and that, but one thing we talked about was the military, the war(s), and the troops. I won’t rehash it all here but I can summarize it by saying that after the discussion I agreed with her viewpoint that whether we like it or not, sometimes war is a necessity. I ended with the fact that I’ve always wholeheartedly agreed with the concept of “hate the war, but support the troops”.

The thing is, whether I like war or not, and I think most of us do not – even those fighting in them, the fact that we are all here and living in a world where we can hold that opinion is because someone, somewhere, at some point in time fought for our rights, fought for our country, and fought for our freedom.

My grandfather, Alan Osborne? He was one of them. He fought in World War II. He went overseas as a signalman. At some point while he was there, he was shot in the arm and sent to an army hospital to recover. He came back home shortly afterwards. Because he fought for what he believed in, our world was a better place. Because he came home safely, my father was born, and as a result so was I.

I still remember my grandmother telling me how he would write her letters and tell her what was going on in a roundabout way. He’d mention a relative or family friend that would tip her off as to his general location. Clearly he couldn’t say, “we’re in such-and-such a location” but he could say, “I couldn’t help but think of Marjorie today” and she would know more or less where he was because of that. He would sometimes write, “it was raining yesterday and it rained all night. I think it may rain today too” and it wasn’t that it was raining. That was their code for enemy fire, for bombs.

I can’t imagine that world. I can’t imagine being my grandfather and living through gunfire and planes dropping bombs, then calmly writing that it was “raining”. I can’t imagine being my grandmother and sitting by the window, waiting for the mail, only to have it arrive with words that would only cause me to worry more.

I can’t imagine wondering when or if he would ever come home.

But he did it – and she did it too – for freedom and for what was right. They did it for the people who couldn’t or wouldn’t fight. They did it for me and for you and for our kids.

And so today, on Remembrance Day, when I took my two minutes of silence to think of everyone in the middle of a battlefield today in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other countries like the Congo, when I thought of those who fought in WWI, WWII, Korea, and Vietnam, I also stopped to look up and say a thank you to my grandfather who risked his life.

Who did you think of today?