milo E minderbinder's little corner

Little Things

I came home on Friday night expecting to see the manifestation of Jo's perpetual procrastination. Surprisingly though, I saw boxes and suitcases lined up near the front door instead. It hurt, I admit. But somewhere behind the strange, empty feeling of seeing part of our life together packed up neatly and moving on, I felt relief.

It was finally here. The day that both of us had been simultaneously dreading and anxiously awaiting was now upon us. My friend Dole was going to be at the apartment at 10 in the morning in his pickup truck to help load up Jo's things and move her into her East Village apartment. Hopefully we could do it one load, but two trips through the Holland Tunnel wouldn't be the end of the world we said. "Its a good thing we are both strong, strapping lads who are experts in truck-bed arrangement though," we thought. We'd knock this fucker out in 1.

Jo was in a chipper mood actually, and Adam went to his room as soon as we came home. I think he was pretty sad too. Anyway, it was just us hanging out and the atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant. She was handling it much better than me. Funny how that works out sometimes. I had not wanted to have a serious conversation though, and was keeping my composure for the most part, until 1 stupid little thing clicked.


After taking a shower, I was in the hall closet putting my leave-in conditioner in my hair (yes, yes, I swear I'm straight) and I thought about something that happened about 5 years ago.

Flashback at Ricky's on Columbus Circle:

Jo: "Ok, with your new hairstyle, we should get you some good shampoo. Like Bumble and Bumble."

Jason: "Its $12 for this tiny bottle! Total rip-off."

Jo: "Just trust me ok. Its totally worth it. You'll never go back after using expensive shampoo."

Jason: {Reluctantly} "Allright. Should I get the conditioner too?"

Well, Jo was right, and I, well, I .... freaking .... loved it! (ok, you can legitimately call me a "Metro" - whatever that means) Seriously though, it was worth it.

So, as I was putting this juicy little product in my hair - I got sad. Really fucking sad. It kinda just hit me. It hit me how much she had changed and molded me. It hit me how many little fun things I learned from her and how many crazy little outings, like that Ricky's trip, we had in new york, hoboken, and cyprus. And while I knew we couldn't go back to that day and that time, I also knew that it was memories like those that would/will always haunt me. I'm not not so sure that's a good thing, so I'm resigned to the fact that this will be my blessing and my curse - just like everyone else that's lost the person they love. The price of a memory ... right?

Something else was very apparent to me that moment. It is a bit cliche and maybe naive in some sense, but it nevertheless came over me like the Holy Spirit when I was 14 years old -- I'll never love anybody as much, or the way I loved her. Never. I know I'll love again, and in some ways I've already moved on. I'm having fun and moving on with my life I guess. But oh, what I wouldn't give to hold on to that beautiful thing we had that day at Ricky's. Whew ..... Little Things.

Anyway, after I performed my post shower rituals, I wanted to tell Jo one thing before we went to sleep. So I sat down beside her on the couch, told her that I didn't want to get upset or have a serious conversation or anything, but I wanted to tell her one thing.

I leaned over and hugged her neck (I hate when she can see tears in my eyes) and told her that after everything that has happened, good and bad - I wouldn't trade any of it. She said the same thing back to me and we both knew that we were being more honest with each other at that moment than we'd been in a long time.

"Remember when we used to say that we've always been together in previous lives, and that we always managed to mess it up somehow, and thats why we're here again," she asked me.

"Yeah. Let's promise now that we won't mess it up next time, ok?," I managed to get out.

"Ok. I promise."

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I don't know how many more posts I'll write about Jo. I'm sure whoever reads this blog is tired of the same topic, and frankly, I think its time for me to move on now. I guess this blog sort of started the first day that Jo said she was going to move out, and it makes poetical sense that the stories about her end on the day she officially moved out - and the day we both officially started to move on.

But before I sign off, I want to tell you about this one line in one song that keeps coming back to me (I know, I overuse lyrical allusion as well). Of all the songs and lines that remind me of Jo, this one is so simple and apt, its the only one that seems to stay with me. The song is called "Hard Way to Fall" by Ryan Adams, from his new album, "Jacksonville City Nights." The entire song is about how he misses the little things about the woman he lost. While the examples he uses such as her thumbing through magazines backwards, sipping on a glass, etc., are quite good, its the last allegory in the song that goes right through me.

The last verse starts:

"I see her smiling at him
That used to be me.
And .... "

And then Mr. Adams just absolutely nails a metaphor that 5 years ago wasn't even that metaphorical to Jo and I.

He continues:

"I could find her in a thunderstorm, just by the wayyyyy that the rain would fall."

I think about that a lot. And I get an eerily comforting feeling just knowing ... Never. Never again will I be able to shut my eyes and find someone just by the way the rain hits the concrete. What a perfect thing my friends.

Never.

posted by miLo @ 8:14 AM