My Antonio

His favorite color was green. He loved to garden, to nurture something from a fragile beginning to a blooming strength. He hung flowering plants by each of our windows and put together a plant stand for me. He gently repotted our monthly succulents and excitedly remarked as everything grew and bloomed.

He loved to cook - even if we were just having left overs, he took pride in everything from subtle fla
vors to presentation. Rum baked wings. Taco Tuesdays. Thanksgiving dinner. Christmas breakfast. Romantic pancakes on Valentine's Day. Crab feasts. Grilled ANYTHING. Birthday celebrations. His father's favorite Fettucine Alfredo. When he cooked for you, he was showing you he loved you. 

He was funny. A dry, subtle wit that would make you laugh long and hard - and any time you remembered something he said or did, it was as funny as it was the first time. He took notice if I was off or down and always brought my smile back. Always.

He paid attention to things that seem so little but meant so much. I mentioned my favorite episode of "Dr. Who" was when they visit Madame Du Pompadour. He arranged a trip to The Walters Museum so I could see an exhibit of her miniatures. Before we met in person, he found my blog and read everything I wrote. Everything. He liked his drinks very cold, but never put ice in mine because I don't. He walked on the outside of the sidewalk, put his arm across me if the car stopped quickly. He carried things and organized things and kept our lives running smoothly.

And on top of all that, he loved me. He loved my bed head in the morning and my grumpy, over-tired self. He loved me even when I was short-tempered and impatient. Only he could soothe me without patronizing. He knew my fears and worries and actively showed me how we would conquer them together. He knew my hopes and dreams and worked toward achieving them with me every day.  

When we first started dating, I told him he had never met a woman like me; he often reminded me of that and agreed. I had never met a man like him, either, though. A man whose enthusiasm was so contagious, even mathematical and scientific equations became interesting. A man whose strength was rivaled only by how gentle he could be. A man who both challenged me to do better, try again, not give up and also offered a safe place to fall apart. A man who embodied everything I needed home to be. 

I am so very lucky to have been loved by him. But I am even luckier to have had the privilege of being his best friend and to love him. Antonio, you were one in a billion, thank you for choosing me. FAAD, I love you.