On December 8th of the 80th year of the last century I was eight years old. I remember watching the news. They showed a man with long hair and round glasses. They said he was dead. Somebody killed him. Shot him four times. In the back. I remember feeling scared, and confused. I just couldn’t get it. “Why?” I kept asking, “Why did this happen?”
Today, many years later, I’m asking myself the same questions. How can one man take another man’s life just like that? How can one die when he feels most safe – in front of his own home? Why did it have to happen?
Some questions remain forever unanswered no matter how hard we try to understand. Some things are forever obscured from view. Sometimes we get a glimpse of the unseen. Or prefer to think that we do. Maybe we just need to come up with some kind of explanation for the inexplicable.
Why did John Lennon have to go on that particular day? Yoko was with him. But was she the only one at his side? I prefer to think that there was another – unseen – presence there. A woman. Walking next to John. Waiting for him. Cradling him in her arms, when he fell. Whispering softly, “Let it be.”
* * *
December 8th (from Wikipedia):
- 1980 – John Lennon, an English musician and peace activist, is murdered by Mark David Chapman, a mentally unstable fan, in front of The Dakota apartment building in New York City.
- Feast of the Immaculate Conception (in the Church of England – the “Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary.”)
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur