On the 4th, my heart was heavy. I was stuck abroad, and im still busy planning the funeral of my father, who passed last Thanksgiving. I wanted this done sooner, but it seems God has decided I needed further testing with floods alongside other forms of loss.

My dad was a vet of Vietnam. Dust off crew. Liked Trump as a presidential candidate before anyone else did. We didn't see eye to eye on everything, but he was there when I needed him most, and loved me unconditionally all my life.

He was a good man. Okay sure he was stubborn to a fault, and a brick was a better communicator, but he did right by me. His house is full of memories, now mostly bittersweet. Still, many still make me smile, especially knowing he had so many fond photos of being with me.

Yesterday reminded me of him heavily. The 4th was one of his favourite holidays, a close second to Christmas I would say. He'd go all out, spending thousands on fireworks every year, and for years when he was a more well man, he headed up to his sister's place up in the pacific northwest to fire them all off on the beach. I was able to see the show he put on one year, and it was the longest fireworks display I ever got to enjoy. It was breathtaking. I wish that I got more times like that with him, but covid took that all away.

My heart breaks to know that I won't be able to enjoy such a beautiful day with him ever again. He would have enjoyed this 250th birthday of America and sent it in with a bang visible from Canada. I miss him terribly, and would have loved just one more day with him around.

So please, raise a glass to my dear departed dad, and have a drink in rememberance all of those who have fallen, both in and out of battle to fight for this country and what it stand for. I love you, Dad, and I hope you could see from on high the amazing show the nation put on this year.