JP's eulogy

"I'm at peace with the world. I'm completely serene. I've discovered my purpose in life. I know why I was put here and why everything exists...I am here so everybody can do what I want. Once everybody accepts it, they'll be serene too." That's Calvin and Hobbes, Joe's High School Yearbook quote.

My name is JP, and Joe Chow was my Friend.
After spending every day that summer together, Columbus Day weekend, my freshman year of college, was the first time we were all together in what seemed like ages. And Joe was grounded. And it was his birthday. Apparently it was part of the fallout of an incident Senior year involving Jag Sing's car and Joe's notoriously bad driving.
Regardless, we showed up at his house to wish him happy birthday, and when he came outside, Charlie Beale hit the gas while Ryan Ujazdowski, Tom Gaffney, and myself bodily picked Joe up, and threw him in the back seat. Tires squealing, Tom diving in the car as it sped off, Momma Chow staring in disbelief from the front door, me sitting on Joe's head, dousing him in beer. At least that is how I remember it. We had him call his mom and I broke it to her that her son would not be coming home that night. (find Donna) But she never liked me anyway.
Jimmy Stip introduced me to Joe our freshman year of High School as a buddy of his from the swim team. I quickly came to know Joe as a quiet, but funny kid who was much, much smarter than me.
I had the pleasure of doing Joe's first shot with him, on my back porch, that summer before College. I remember what it was, too- 151 mixed with some blue stuff. Daniel and Kyle had the pleasure of cleaning Joe's first shot off the bathroom floor later that same evening.
I could go in to the fact that I always considered Joe to be the smartest person I knew. I could go in to the fact that I was sure that he would be on the cutting edge of some scientific breakthrough that I could barely wrap my brain around, but I prefer to think of his field presence in pickup football- awkward, and his absurdly formulaic golf swing.
The fact that he joined the Peace Corps suprised me not at all. Some thing every one talks about, "oh yea, I'd love to go to Africa" Joe did. And he didn't just take. He saw Kilimanjaro, sure, but he was there to give of himself. And that doesn't surprise me.
I remember how he said my name and how he would laugh at ridiculous ideas with a snort, I remember how he would expand all the fingers on both his hands to stretch when he was getting bored or impatient.
I can't help but have a feeling of disillusionment with the world now. The kid I expected to either cure cancer or discover an alien civilization or maybe be President, whatever he felt like doing, is gone. Who's coattails am I going to ride? How are the rest of us supposed to go on when the best of us is gone?
We went on a trip to Appalachia in High School. We worked on houses and talked to the locals, and bonded with all the people who like, us, were down there to help. I knew Joe before this pretty well, and he was shy, by my standards anyway. But by the end of the week, well, it was like spring and the Joe tree had blossomed in my backyard. I have a picture of him from down there, still, somewhere, and it is how I think of him when someone says 'Joe Chow'. It's him, laying across a piano bench, cards in his hands. I fired it off on impulse, and he looked up just in time, smiled, and went right back to cards. Smiling, sitting strangely, invested in what he was doing, that was Joe for me. The strange sitting was of course just as important as the smiling.

People always try to spin this perfectly circular existence to the experience of life. People talk about death as the completion of a circle, but I'm sorry if I can't do that. A big god damn hole has been ripped in the fabric of my existence. Joe's life didn't end in some perfectly circular manner. He was headed forward, upward. His life was on the rise, his impact in the world was really just starting to be felt. Felt by his parents, who saw all their hard work coming to fruition, and it was in service to others, in teaching, of which there is no better calling. Felt by his students, who were getting a taste of his potential impact on the world, seeing the intelligent human being in front of them and grasping at every bit of information he could think to provide, to give them a fair shake. Felt by his brothers, a unit. A triangle is the strongest structure in nature, and three legs are the most balanced. They were hitting their stride, falling into unison, without losing the playful pettiness that makes siblings love each other so much. And felt by me, I mean, all I ever wanted was a few good drinking buddies. My standards for who I will share a beer with are quite high. Joe fit all of these standards, funny, smarter than me, wrote the answers on his math tests really big, fun- loving, shorter than me, can talk about movies (particularly shitty ones) to no end, but now he's gone. And so it seems we're all one short.
One of the last times I saw Joe, he was home for about a week or so, and we wanted to meet up, and on top of that, he hadn't had a good sandwich in months, so he picked me up and we went down to Arthur Ave in the Bronx, by Fordham Prep. We ordered sandwiches at the deli, and he got a provolone-loaded specialty sandwich while I went with my usual, ham and swiss with Mayo. Well, the ENTIRE lunch, he gave me shit. "We're on Arthur Avenue," He'd said, "You can get ham and swiss anywhere. This is the best Italian meats and cheese on the planet, and you're eating ham and swiss." He shook his head at me as I came back with the point that you could probably get better Italian meats and cheeses in Italy.
Little did I know that the kid that had taught me enough to pass Physics, Pre-Calc, AP Gov, and AP Physics by the skin of my teeth was passing one last lesson on to me. Take the opourtunities you are presented with. He sure did.
Sorry, but I can't provide closure here. I just don't know how I possibly could. I will instead say that there are a lot of people who have a giant, gaping hole ripped in their respective realities, a hole that nothing here on earth can patch. You are not alone in your pain, and it sucks.
Ok, end with a quote. This is straight from Joe himself. "JP, you're an idiot."
Calvin: I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night.
Seriously though, See ya pal.