Bloody Christmas


When the World Lost John Lennon

– Where were you when you heard about it?
His family and close ones will always prefer to remember his birthday in October, specially this year, his 70th. But the world will always think about his brutal death, outside the Dakota in New York City, and the crushing end of so many dreams, however unrealistic they may’ve been.
John Lennon’s death, with its profound resonance for millions of fans around the globe, was almost as unexpected as it was deeply unjust. His songs, his music, his art and awareness of his times will, of course, last longer than the grief of all generations who share the admiration for him.
But they’ll never be enough to satisfy those who, despite never having expected to meet the man in flesh and blood, felt a certain comfort in knowing he was around, growing older and happier. That’s also the part that died inside us all in that darkest of all December nights.
Once again, we’ll be thinking about him and the what-ifs of his absence. We’ll read gripping testimonies, hear bits of information we never knew, come across pictures taken from different angles, all in another feeble attempt to shed light on the absurd cruelty of his death.
Once again, it won’t help it either, of course. That voice, those songs will have to do it, instead. But we can always imagine: what would he say now? Would he still be as optimist as he was till the end? Would he be living in Ireland with his wife, as he once envisioned? Would he own an iPod?
That night was a nightmare, but he’s a dream now. He actually wrote a song about it, and it had his favorite number, 9, on its title. He was born on the 9 and it was already the 9th in Liverpool, when he died. His life had this magical arch to it. And, heavens know we work hard to believe it, it was complete.
Here’s to you John. We now resume our own, still to be completed lives, but we’ll be thinking about you.

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