I remember exactly where I was when I heard John Lennon had died. I was 14 years old and my family was watching Monday Night Football. The phone rang and my Mom answered it. She looked confused and looked at me and told me it was for me. When I asked who it was, she said she didn't know.

Imagine my surprise when it was my sister, Mandy, who was sobbing. Her own mother didn't recognize her voice. She told me the news and I was in shock. We turned the channel to the news, I believe, and heard the details. I remember feeling such anger. Incredible anger. I was pacing and yelling that this guy, Mark David Chapman, needed to die. I hated him with everything I had in my young soul.

I went to school the next day and just felt so alone and depressed. Most kids in 1980, at least in my school, weren't huge Beatles/John Lennon fans. So few understood my reaction. To me, it was like losing my best friend. I would have these fantasies where I would talk to John and I would imagine his response. To me, though I knew it wasn't real, it helped me through my lonliness. And now, he was gone.

I remember Yoko's message of forgiveness and peace and ever since then I've been anti-death penalty. It's amazing what somebody's forgiveness can teach you.

I guess that Paul was always my crush. The guy I swooned over. But John was the one that, if the time and place had been right, I would have married. Even with his faults and whatnot. The conversations would have been worth everything. He's the soulmate kind of guy. You know what I mean?

I close in just saying that even though he's gone, for 25 years now, I still feel a closeness to him and the Beatles that comes from a childhood of feeling they were my friends. That will never go away.

last - next