Semper Fi

The Fourth of July is tomorrow and it always reminds me of my dad who passed away nearly four years ago. My dad was an ex-Marine and he was a Devil Dog to the core. While most teenagers have the luxury of sleeping in on the weekends, my brother and I were typically awakened by the horns of "Stars and Stripes Forever" and "The Marine Corps Hymn" blaring through the house from the speakers of our sound system. My dad wasn't much on setting aside time to sit down and impart widsom, but rather taught by example. He didn't tell us that we should love our country, fight for what is important in our lives, and take care of your family--he didn't need to because he showed us these things each and every day in the manner in which he lived. He loved his country and because of him I, too, am very patriotic.

Every Fourth of July we take the kids downtown to watch the parade and every time I see the soldiers marching I begin to well up with tears. I become overwhelemed with a feeling of pride for my country and an appreciation for the freedom that I have that so many men and women have died for over the years. Inevitably, I think about my dad, how he fought in Vietnam when he was a young adult and how he had to watch his friends die on the battlefield--that is when I can't hold back the emotion as tears begin to roll down my face. The sacrafices that he and so many others have made for me and the rest of the country is made real at that precise moment.

Before my dad died, I had a special gift made for him to show my appreciation for not only his service to our country but also to show him what he meant to me. That gift was a set of dog tags that reads his name and the words, "Vietnam Veteran and hero to his family." When he opened the gift, he seemed almost bewildered as if he had no clue of what an impact he had on my life and he began to cry. I don't think he realized what he had imparted on me (or the rest of our family) and how we recognized the sacrifice he had made for us.
Now, I have his original dog tag and the one that I had made for him. Every now and then, I will place it around my neck and put on one of his Marine Corps T-shirts and reminisce about days past and try to hear his voice. I miss him each and every day and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him. What I wouldn't give to have him wake me up just one more time by playing a John Phillips Sousa song or by banging a pot and hearing him shout, "Revellie, revellie, revellie!" One day I will see him again, but until then I'll keep cherishing the memories that I have and try to instill a love of country to my own children as my dad did for me.