The first time I went to Ireland and met John’s family I was a bit overwhelmed with their accents, especially those in the North. And it’s not just the way they pronounce words; it’s their colloquialisms.
For instance, when they introduced Sharon to me, she was called “Our Sharon”. And believe me it didn’t sound like our Sharon. It was more like “R Shrn”. So to me, she is still R Shrn.
After that I started calling John, My John.
Those of you who have been following my blog know I haven’t introduced John in my story yet. It’s coming, so be patient. We had an interesting beginning, for sure.
But I can tell you who he is.
My John is the kind of man who wants to do the right thing. Not that he always does, mind you, but his heart is in the right place. He sees people as mostly good, and is amazed by how kind people are.
I think that’s a reflection of who he is.
He can strike up a conversation with just about anyone, and there have been times he was late for an appointment, because he spent too much time chatting with a fella he’d just met at the gas station.
He’s the first person to jump up and help too. At his Uncle’s funeral, he saw his Aunt falter in her step ever so slightly, and in a flash he was up out of the church pew and at her side.
My John loves his family more than anything in the world. Even motorcycles or skateboards. He is very close to his siblings, but when he talks about his brother, Brian, it’s as though he’s talking about Superman.
When I first met him, he was living in the Bay Area, and a couple of hours away from his Mom. It never failed that every other weekend, he was at her place for a visit and to check on her. He wrote a beautiful tribute to his Mother and Father called A Love Story. (You can read it here, if you’d like.)
My John would stop a train for his kids. Back when I was dating, guys would get a little uncomfortable when I would say, “my kids come first”. When I said that to John, he said, “oh absolutely, always”. We high-fived and it’s been like that ever since.
He loves my family too. If anyone in my family needs help, he’d be there. One time my sister’s motorhome broke down while she was on her way from Oregon to the Salton Sea, and My John drove two hours and fixed it, right there in the parking lot.
He treats my sons and daughter in law as if they were his own, and when my granddaughters came along, he jumped right in to be a part of their lives. When we asked him what title he wanted as their “grandfather”, he just said, “John works.”
I heard my youngest granddaughter introduce him to one of her friends one day. She said, “This is… My John”. I thought that was just perfect.
Today is My John’s birthday, and I could go on and on about how great he is. But I’ll just end it with this:
Happy Birthday My Handsome John! XOXO
p.s. this is your card