John was the other half of my heart, my soulmate, my partner, my best friend, my husband, my lover. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. We loved each other fiercely, and John always told me that we could survive anything as long as we were together; it was us against the world. We had 21 years together, but that doesn't take away the pain of being widowed in my 30s. I'm still trying to figure out how to say goodbye to the best human I knew. We fell in love online, through flowery emails. He was from the South, and I was in the Philadelphia area. We visited a few times, but we couldn't stand being apart, so, after a year together, he surprised me and showed up here in his truck with nothing more than clothes and books. He never left again. He was passionate about the City of Philadelphia. There was nowhere he'd rather be.

John had a huge heart, and he especially loved animals. We rescued many stray cats over the years in Philadelphia. His true fur love was his dog, Sweetie. She's a giant pit bull mix, and she was so loyal and bonded to him. They went everywhere together. John probably loved people as much as he loved animals, and people loved him back. He never walked into a room and felt out of place. He could connect with anyone of any background. His friends were a diverse bunch, and he made new friends constantly. He was such a charmer. He was also absolutely brilliant. He would devour books on any subject that interested him, like coding and electrical/computer engineering. He never met a computer that he couldn't fix, and he built his own business from that, in his home workshop. He had a very analytical mind, but he was also creative. He had a flair for writing, which is what first connected us, but his real passion was music. In his 20s, he started a business working as a sound engineer for rock bands, and he was a musician himself. He adored guitar and performing for people. He loved to make people smile.

John was in recovery for a long time, and we had a relatively ""normal"" life. Unfortunately, he started drinking, thinking that was ""safe."" It wasn't. Alcohol destroyed him in a way that hard drugs never had. In the end, I barely recognized the man I love so deeply. While he was using other drugs like fentanyl and cocaine and pills, we were told that it was alcohol that caused his organs to fail after only 2 1/2 years of drinking. We tend to think of alcohol as safe and socially acceptable, but it's as deadly and soul-destroying as heroin or crack. It robbed John of a beautiful future that we envisioned and planned together, and it robbed me of my husband. Half of my heart is permanently missing. The world was a better place with him in it.