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July is by far my most favorite month of the year. It has been all of my life.

The celebration of America’s Independence strikes a chord in me that runs deep. I also have very passionate feelings about July 24th, and it’s special and unique significance.

However- since July 2001, it has been different for me and July comes and goes for me now with a mixture of sadness and confusion that come with losing a loved one.

July 4, 2001 was hot. We got up early in the morning to attend our local fireman’s breakfast. My Dad, Mom and kids, all filled up on pancakes, bacon and hashbrowns. We sat in the fire station and watched the runners come in from their 5 K competition.  The 3 on 3 basketball tourny was going on across the street in the church parking lot.

My Dad was a people person.  Everywhere you went people know and loved him.  He wasn’t a crowd person though and going to this kind of social event was not typical for him.  He wanted to get a good start on his trip to Northern California, so after breakfast we said quick goodbyes and off he went on his journey.

He talked to my Mom that afternoon and told her that he wasn’t feeling well. He was allergic to sunflower seeds and wondered when he had lunch if his bread might have contained them.  So, he was going to take some benadryl and lay down in the sleeper for a while to see if that would help.

He was in Wells, Nevada. Early in the morning on th 5th- He had pulled his truck into the fuel island at the Flying J truck stop. He stumbled around and passed out.  The employees then called an ambulance/  After going through his truck, the Manager of the Flying J found our home phone number and called us. The ambulance was taking him to the hospital in Elko.

My Mom, Paul and I jumped in the car and quickly headed for Elko.  We were concerned but not overly so.  He had been conscience when they had left Wells.

Arriving at the hospital- he looked parched. They said, he is dehydrated, and wanted to run further tests. We sat there all afternoon, and visited with him. He was tired, and his lips were dry. That night, he said, “Lisa, take your Mom to a hotel. She needs some rest.”- So I did. I mean, no one argued with my Dad. They had told us, they would probably release him the next day.

Mom and I went to Wal-mart. We bought a movie (Return to Me) to watch at our hotel, some goodies, jammas, things like that-

At four thirty am, the phone rang. I answered. It was the Doctor. “You need to come right away. Your father has quit breathing and we have been unable to recessitate him.”

I knew then, that he was gone. I repeated the words for my Mom, and we ran.

I didn’t want to walk into that hospital room. I didn’t want the next days and weeks and months to happen, I could see it— just like it happened. Glancing down that long tunnel of life, as if flashing before my eyes.

I miss him. The smell of diesel fuel can conjure up memories, so quickly that I think he is there, standing by me. Hamburgers and icey soda’s- bring me back to my youth. Traveling the road between Utah and California.  Boston baked beans, cabbage, a “hot toddie”, the Utah Jazz, Atlanta Braves- all of those things rolled up into a big, gruff character, was my Dad.

He had a temper, he was honest to a fault. He was brave and a hard, hard worker. Everyone who knew him, has a “Harvey” story. He was a jokester and a prankster. He loved his children and his grandchildren fiercely. He was the champion of the underdog. I wish he would have known Ethan in this life. I ache for that will all my heart. He would have loved him unconditionally and would have been his champion. He would have…. I know it.. He had a testimony of the Gospel, and though he did not attend church in the latter days of his life, he always paid tithing, and was a true example.

One of my most favorite “Dad” stories-

One time, he and his friends, stole a bunch of chickens.. and then set them loose in the school house, over Christmas Vacation- OH FOR THE MESS. He said they didn’t dare breath a word about that. The Law was looking for the culprits. He said the mess was incredible. It stopped school from resuming for a day or two. When he told the story, he would laugh so hard his eyes would creek together.

I miss you Dad-

Independence Day– My favorite holiday of the year.

I’m not sure I am capable of expressing my feelings regarding this day. I feel completely inept, when I try.

One thing I know for certain, is that our Declaration of Independence was inspired. The men who wrote, edited, re-wrote and wrote again before it was signed- were men of God.  They prayed, pondered and prayed again. They soul searched and researched and prayed some more.   I have no doubt.

This day– I hope you take a few minutes and consider that.

I am moved by a speech made my Franklin D. Roosevelt on July 4, 1942.

For 166 years this Fourth Day of July has been a symbol to the people of our country of the democratic freedom which our citizens claim as their precious birthright. On this grim anniversary its meaning has spread over the entire globe–focusing the attention of the world upon the modern freedoms for which all the United Nations are now engaged in deadly war.

On the desert sands of Africa, along the thousands of miles of battle lines in Russia, in New Zealand and Australia, and the islands of the Pacific, in war-torn China and all over the seven seas, free men are fighting desperately–and dying–to preserve the liberties and the decencies of modern civilization. And in the overrun and occupied nations of the world, this day is filled with added significance, coming at a time when freedom and religion have been attacked and trampled upon by tyrannies unequaled in human history.

Never since it first was created in Philadelphia, has this anniversary come in times so dangerous to everything for which it stands. We celebrate it this year, not in the fireworks of make-believe but in the death-dealing reality of tanks and planes and guns and ships. We celebrate it also by running without interruption the assembly lines which turn out these weapons to be shipped to all the embattled points of the globe. Not to waste one hour, not to stop one shot, not to hold back one blow–that is the way to mark our great national holiday in this year of 1942.

To the weary, hungry, unequipped Army of the American Revolution, the Fourth of July was a tonic of hope and inspiration. So is it now. The tough, grim men who fight for freedom in this dark hour take heart in its message–the assurance of the right to liberty under God–for all peoples and races and groups and nations, everywhere in the world.

It’s a bit humbling isn’t it?  Happy Happy Independence Day.  I hope, with all my heart that I never forget the sacrifices paid, the effort made and the valiant men and woman who have made the life I live now, possible.

May we maintain our vigilance and due diligence to keep those freedoms intact.  It is absolutely essential that we do so.  Of this, I have no doubt.