Deanna Hoak

We watched a gorgeous fireworks show tonight, with the sparks shimmering in reflection off the water of the lagoon. We were close enough to hear the booms, but not so close they were deafening.

The Fourth of July was always one of my favorite holidays–I love the fireworks and the outdoor celebrations and the barbecue and the laughter–but we had my dad’s funeral on the Fourth five years ago today, and I think the day will now be forever touched with a bit of melancholy for me. He was an amazing man and a loving father, and I miss him like crazy.

My dad died because of war, even if he didn’t die in it. He developed numerous respiratory and oral cancers from being exposed to Agent Orange while he was a teenager in Vietnam, fixing jets that sprayed the nasty stuff. He passed away at 56, after five years of cancer.

I’m lucky, I know, that I got to grow up having my dad around–far more lucky than the many who lost their dads or kids over there, and the many who are losing loved ones now. I feel for them.

I still enjoy the celebrations on the Fourth of July, but I find it hard to feel patriotic toward our government these days. I’m tired of war.