For John

On December 20, 2025, my family and I were cleaning the house for another round of guests. We just finished lunch when we got the call: our friend John had died.

John lived on the other side of the world. So in geographic, chronological, and emotional terms, this really became the darkest day of the year.

I first met John and his wife in 2012. My family and I recently moved to New York, and right from the start, they made us feel at home.

The first time I remember having them to our home was for lunch. My wife prepared a soup the night before. All I had to do was put it back on the stove and drop in some noodles before everyone arrived. Unfortunately, some bad weather knocked out our power for an extended period, so I improvised: I tried finishing the soup on our gas grill. Between the excess noodles and unpredictable heat, our soup became a casserole. Like any Midwesterner, I was hyper-apologetic. But in typical John form, he gently brushed off my faux pas with something like, “Ah, it’s all good. Soup’s overrated anyway.”

From that time on, we had what I can only describe as some of the best times of our lives with these two. Dinners, games, vacations, staycations – we absolutely loved being with John and his wife.

John was that rare sort of person for me: someone with shared sensibilities who innately excelled in all of them in every way. Hard work, creativity, kindness, humor, empathy – John had it all in spades.

Also, John was cool. Effortlessly cool. Sprezzatura. And he didn’t make you feel jealous about it. You just wanted to know how he consistently pulled it off.

John didn’t shout. He owned the room without stealing the mic. In fact, you wanted to give it to him. He knew how to tell a story, take you somewhere, and let you enjoy the ride.

I saw this over and over again too: John loved people. He was just as comfortable with everyday folk as he was with people in high station. He knew how to read the room and treat people the way they should be treated, even in high stakes, high-pressure situations.

Finally, in John, I found family. He was an uncle to my two kids, a dear friend and trusted confidant to my family during some tough times, and a brother to me.

To John’s Wife

Since John’s death, I’ve flipped through some photos and footage of better times. The time he played spoons with our kids in the pool. That time I asked him to do a voiceover for another one of my silly videos. That time we double-dated for an anniversary dinner.

But then I remembered we have these.

When we visited John’s folks, we mentioned we still had these. hHis mother affectionately asked, “You mean the one with the bench?” Saying Yes felt like we were entrusted with a family heirloom.

We can’t wait for you to come visit so we can share another meal with you at this table.

We love you very much.