You raised a glass to us from the pool that day, and now you’re raising one from heaven. Let’s have that drink when we get there.
Until then, we’ll take good care of Pi.  Cheers to you John!

I don’t want to say goodbye. None of us do. But I will say thank you.
Thank you for the memories, the mischief, the meals, the music, and the moments that made life better just by having you in it.

You’ll always be with us; in the jokes we tell, the songs we guess, the candles we light (carefully), and the porch nights that will never be the same.

Game nights were were loud, messy, and absolutely perfect. Just like him.

Sundays in the Pool
Almost every Sunday, you could find us in John and Pi’s backyard oasis floating, tanning,  and completely content. Their pool became our weekly escape, our little slice of joy and togetherness.

We’d stretch out on floats, eat too much, sip something cold, talk about everything and nothing, and listen to music as if it were the soundtrack of our friendship. The game was always the same: guess the artist. And of course, John was usually right.  

Sundays won’t be the same without him.

Our wedding wouldn’t have been the same without celebrating it alongside our dearest friends. And of course, John and Pi were right there in the heart of it bringing their love, laughter, and a whole lot of flair.

Oh how he loved Pi.  This kiss says it all - joy, partnership, and a whole lot of love.

Wine tasting in the Hill Country was always a good time.  John had this irreverent, perfectly inappropriate sense of humor that made every outing a little rowdy and a lot more fun. He’d make up names for the waitstaff (bless them), and one poor woman, who had no idea, was dubbed “Scooter Muncher.”  I won’t even try to explain it. You had to be there but  that was just John's humor.  We always felt like,  “should we really be laughing at this?” and somehow he made everyone double over anyway.  It wasn't mean,  it was mischief.  It was John

He looks like John Belushi here.  His mischievous grin, twinkle in his eye, and yes, flowers in his hair. His humor matched the look: bold, unfiltered, and absolutely unforgettable.

We would celebrate the Fourth of July in Corpus every year.  It was a guaranteed good time.  We brought the games but John brought the laughter and stories that got funnier (and less accurate) every year. Whether we were swimming, grilling, or just floating around with a drink in hand, he made all those days more fun

Porch Night
Every Friday like clockwork, we’d gather on Andy and Amy’s porch—our sacred little ritual to end the week and begin again. The food was always a treat, the drinks flowed just right, and the laughter was loud enough to startle the neighbors (who thankfully loved us anyway).

John was a porch night regular. Rain or shine, he showed up with that dry wit, a knowing smile, and some perfectly timed sarcasm. We did our fair share of venting but somehow always ended the night lighter than we started.

That porch held our friendship, our frustrations, our joy, our jokes and our John.  I'll miss him so.

One of their many unforgettable dinner parties
The food was always delicious—perfectly plated and thoughtfully prepared—but it was the company that made it magic. The wine flowed freely (maybe too freely), the table was decked out like something from a magazine, and we laughed so hard we nearly burned the place down—literally. That night someone left a candle a little too close to the Christmas decor, and John, cool as ever, just calmly moved it and cracked a joke about us all going out in a blaze of glory.
It was classic John: generous, gracious, and always at the center of the fun. Those nights were about presence, connection, and joy. I’d give anything for one more.

OBITUARY

John Joseph Polidore

September 7, 1951 – June 28, 2025

Cook-Walden/Forest Oaks Funeral Home and Memorial Park

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