He was, first and foremost, a wonderful husband and father. From the time I came into his life, and then when Conor joined us, I don’t think he made a single decision that didn’t center and consider both of us.

Preston made me feel beautiful and smart and capable and he laughed at all of my jokes.

He did not let Conor win at games and taught him how to be a good sport and appreciate good music.

He was the kind of person that made other people feel seen – as colleagues and family members and friends.

He was an exceptional listener.

He loved to fish, but even more than catching, he loved the sport of it. He loved trying to figure out exactly where they would be, and how to read the shore, and to research the gear.

He loved to build and make things with wood. From Conor’s backyard swingset to his shop at 4309 to picture frames and cutting boards to friends, and projects for me, he took great care in creating for others. Come to think of it, I don’t think he ever made something for himself. My craft table – lovingly painted with dandelions is a prized possession – so is my desk, and quit rack and cutting board and picture frame…

He encouraged me to pursue anything I could think up and encouraged me to stick with it. (and since I tend to hyperfixate on things for a short period of time, he had quite a number of opportunities.)

He loved Adam Sandler movies and Rob Schneider for some weird reason.

He adored his friends, and held them close. I really will always believe that the reason I met Kevin and Brendan back in college was to bring Preston to them some day.

The Pungo River was his favorite place – sitting on the shore, riding in a boat, pulling Conor in a tube, dragging my kayak in for me, kicking the kickball clear across the field to humble the children. Pouring daquiris to get us drunk. Cooking dinner when I was passed out on the kitchen floor due to said daquiris.

He loved, loved, loved, live music. Irish sessions in the back of a bar. Crowded, loud metal shows. Folksy singer-songwriters. Bluegrass. Classical. Broadway. I even drug him to a Josh Groban concert once and he didn’t complain. I’m so very grateful he made it to the Jason Isbell show in February.

He played the trombone! A lot of people don’t know that, because he had largely stopped playing by the time we got together. But that’s how we met! He and I were both hired to play the Christmas Cantata at Fuquay Varina United Methodist. We were in line at Moe’s during the break rolling our eyes about the show and he asked if I wanted to grab a beer after we were done. When he called a couple of days later for a “real” date, I was pretty pleased. We went to Champs for dinner and tried to watch a movie. I spent the night, and as far as I can remember, unless we had to for work or travel, we didn’t spend any apart after that.

The next day, I had dinner with my friend Shruthi and told her, “I went out with this guy last night, and I’m going to marry him.”

And I was right. And it was the best decision I ever made. And I feel so grateful to be loved by him.

He died this morning at about 7:45. They let me know it was close, and I turned on Bob Marley. I held his hand and told him how much I loved him. He took one last deep breath and I realized that “No Woman No Cry” was on and I told him I got the message.

Everything is going to be alright.