I'll spend Monday like I have for the past 9 years.
I'll wake up and go to the same parade I have been going to since I was a little kid. At some point during the parade my wife will ask when I'm going to walk or ride in it, and I'll dance around an answer by telling her "maybe someday."
At some point during the parade I'll wander off and find a place where I can be alone and I'll end up breaking down in tears as I think about my friends who didn't come back from Iraq, and their families and their kids who have to endure this day with out their husbands and fathers.
I'll eventually make my way back to the parade and watch my daughter grab candy that is thrown from the floats, pretending to have a good time.
After the parade I'll get home and start setting up for a picnic that I always have at my house. The day will go on as usual, and as usual I'll drink myself into oblivion, call 3 or 4 of my buddies that I still keep in touch with from the Marine Corps and see how their day is going - usually the same as mine - Hating life and pissed off at all the people who look at this day as just another day off from work and a reason to get drunk with their friends.
At some point later on in the night I'll black out and pass out - hopefully in my bed.
And if it's a really special day, like the one 6 years ago, I'll wake up around 2:30am, take off my clothes, grab my car keyes and tell my wife I'm going to play golf and I'll be back in a few hours. (true story)