There were three frenzied, but all-too-short tours with Jay and Edward over those next four months. The extended stories from those tours will have to find their own space and conduit for some other time. What we quickly found out was that it was always moving forward with Jay, with a tireless energy so often mixed with little sleep, but always, always with love. It didn’t matter if it was music or mathematics or a riddle or a lengthy van ride analysis of a complex joke. There were moments when the music, and even the type of friendship we shared felt chaotic, like it might transform or inexplicably fade, but it never did. The phone calls and encouraging voicemails rolled on afterward. The cdr’s exchanged and detailed song notes all continued over time, all with the undertone of hopefully playing, recording together again one day. It always felt as if the bridge had seen no water pass. To say it was like a rollercoaster is too easy. Thinking back, it was more like a musical tightwire act from which we were all somehow safe from falling. As we all got to know each other over the course of those tours, I quickly found comfort in the fact that once you were a friend with Jay, you were always a friend. I saw it happen with total strangers. Often. There was a consistent glow of beauty and melody in everything I saw him take on, and more than that, an undying foundation of caring and love for those around him. In the end, there was always time for others. And there was always a kind word. And more times than not, a bear hug to follow.
Rest your heavy head, friend. We will miss your voice, your friendship, and your music. We will miss your big, big heart.