John relished in every experience of life, whether jovial or vain. He had stories. So many stories. Some of them were probably even loosely based on truths, but all were his experience of life, which enriched everyone it touched.

For the majority of his life, John was afforded the luxury, and carried the burden, of being somewhat disconnected with reality. In 1980 his father wrote a letter, apologizing for something one can only assume seriously damaged the family and their relationship, but was left unsaid. Regardless, his father always provided for him and his mother financially, even if he could not emotionally. This allowed him to dream big, and build a career as an architect and interior designer, focusing first and foremost on what he loved of the work, and paying less concern to the economics of the business. He did many beautiful projects, and some of them made business sense, while all left overwhelmingly happy customers.

This is actually how I found my way to California. John’s mother gave him license to decorate the family home in the 80’s, and I found my way on a boat from Asia to establish and maintain the spiritual balance of the families garden. They gave me quite the spot, and I watched them for many years, hoping to have provided some comfort in times of need. John and his mother were unspeakably close, him having cared for her for many years before she passed.

John never married. He never had a serious relationship that he shared with anyone close to him, including his best friend and chosen family. In this way, he was always emotionally reserved, and showed as much appreciation for the beauty of man, as platonic female company. While John may have understood and resolved more with himself than he shared with others, many stood by, happy to accept whatever he might have been ready to share.