And It’s All Still So Familiar

Recently while working in my garden and listening to the Deva Premal channel stream through my phone, I noticed the streaming inexplicably got stuck playing one song repeatedly—every other song. It was Familiar to Me by Joe Zawinul. Hearing that song once transported me back in time. Hearing it many times—peppered in-between Sanskrit chants—bounced me back and forth into the place that Gary and I did so much of our falling in love. His bedroom.

It’s not what you think—well, maybe a little—but the intimacy I’m talking about most is that of soul touching soul. Gary’s bedroom was our sanctuary. Back then, Gary was caring for his 90-something parents. His father was ill with Lewy Body Dementia and his mother did not have the capacity to care for him. So Gary was there, on duty, 24/7. And even in his bedroom sanctuary he had set up a doorbell—one that his mother could ring from upstairs if she needed him to come quickly.

Gary’s ever-present role as caregiver wasn’t the only factor that complicated our time together. There was also the long distance nature of our relationship—Gary in Salt Lake City and me in Laramie. I visited SLC once a month to see my ailing mom and would always add a day or two to the trip to spend with Gary.

We had to squeeze so much into those few hours together. We sacrificed sleep for long, deep connections of holding each other—sometimes talking, sometimes silent—but always listening to music. He introduced me to songs I had never heard and artists I didn’t know existed. He taught me how to listen to music by understanding its different parts—bass, melody, harmony, rhythm. He explained that the singing voice is like an instrument adding to the whole musical piece. He pointed out lyrics that were meaningful to him.

Sometimes he would talk about a specific song and let me know why he chose to play it. In a uniquely Gary style of communicating, he would play the song and then repeat certain words. “It’s all so familiar. It’s all so familiar to me.” His repetition put an exclamation point on the words and let me know there was something he wanted me to understand. “So familiar,” he said. “You and I, we’re so familiar to this place.” Yes, Gary. I hear you. I hear your recognition and appreciation for the familiarity of the way we are together, and it how comes back powerfully every time we reunite.

In his room, we remembered who we were together. We returned to the depth of our connection, the wellspring of our love. When I hear that song now, as I did over and over in the garden, I ache for that which was once so familiar to me.