I was ready to send a Happy Hogmanay message to him when I was informed of John's passing. It's still sitting in my drafts folder, and I will keep it, time stamped early on the morning of January 4th. Always a slow email correspondent, John had taken longer than usual to respond to my last communication. I'd been concerned about him for some time, and had been trying to find ways to contact some of his friends. What if something had happened to him? I only knew Angus and Russell, but hadn't seen them since I was a teenager, some 20+ years ago. Just at Christmas I was asking my mum if she could remember their last names so that I could track them down. It doesn't seem enough to say that John is my stepdad. He is so much more than that to me. John and I had a very close bond, and he has been an honourary, beloved and celebrated member of our family since the early 1960s when my grandfather (Bob Condron) and uncle (Jimmy, one of his best friends) met him in a rooming house in Hamilton, Ontario. They were all recent immigrants to Canada and became close. It wasn't long before they were sharing a flat where they were soon joined by my grandma (Lottie) and mother, Joan. (Of this stellar group of people, only my beautiful mum remains now.) Around the time I came along in 1968, John's international career really got rolling and he travelled a lot. He still visited when I was young, but he was living abroad. His was a constant household name, like another son to my grandparents. I didn't really get to know him, though, until I was 14 or 15. It was around this time that he and my mother got together. He left his position of 13 or so years in Hong Kong and came to live with us - my mum, myself and my younger sister. We all moved together to the lovely town of Ancaster, Ontario, Canada. I can't begin to explain the profoundly positive impact John had on me and the person I have become. I feel that he allowed me to blossom at a very important time in my life. He was kind and patient - and brave! It must have been daunting to take on an instant family with two teenage girls! John had vast stores of knowledge and life experiences. He told me of his travels and shared his wisdom. I listened with rapt attention. We had great, intellectually stimulating conversations (well, stimulating for me, at least - probably not for him, lol). Also, no one could beat him at Trivial Pursuit! He connected with me in a way that no one else in my family did, and showed me a window into worlds I had only dreamed of. In 1987, we (John, Mum and I) moved to Dundee (Broughty Ferry, actually). I was just turned 19 and attended college there. My mum spent a lot of time in Canada helping my grandparents, who were unwell. Then Granddad died and Grandma needed her all the more. This meant that John and I spent a great deal of time together. We got on very well and enjoyed all of our time. The first Christmas dinner I ever cooked was for him that year, and though it was only the two of us, it was very special. Memories of his warmth and kindness still fill my heart. I was with him when his own mum, Cathy, passed on. We visited her in the hospital together. My grandparents always spoke fondly of her, like a sister. Though John and my mum didn't stay married, that did nothing to change my feelings for him. We lost touch for a few years, but I tracked him down. I don't even remember how I found an email contact for him, but I'm so glad I did. I knew he'd been struggling with his health in the past few years and every day I didn't hear back from him, I fretted. I tried not to nag him and always aimed to keep my letters light hearted and cheerful. I offered to come and help out for a bit, but he didn't respond to that question. John is one of my kindred spirits. I'm often surprised and delighted to see traits in my husband that remind me of him. We have the same easy, warm relationship. As with John, there is never a dull moment, and I could talk with him forever. Please forgive this lengthy explanation of our history and relationship, but I've found it very helpful, in my sorrow, to write it out. Thank you John. You will always be with us (like it or not). ;)