Yesterday (McLennon)

Chapter Twelve: 1982

A lump forms in my throat as I finger the notes on my guitar with shaking hands.  I have to shut my eyes to block out the crowd, block out their excitement from just having heard me perform one of my hits.  The notes sound crystal clear in my head, and when my voice first comes out, it’s blissfully unwavering.  

“And if I say, I really knew you well/What would your answer be?/If you were here today/Ooh ooh ooh, here today//Well knowing you/You'd probably laugh and say that we were worlds apart/If you were here today/Ooh ooh ooh, here today//But as for me/I still remember how it was before/And I am holding back the tears no more/Ooh ooh ooh, I love you,” I sing, but then my voice cracks. 

It’s the most public way I’ve ever admitted to loving John Lennon, even though I’m sure most people will just take it as me letting down my barriers and paying tribute to a best friend.  But it’s so much more.  It’s the rawest form of the truth I can provide, the most real thing I have ever felt.  And as I continue to sing, I wonder how many people will truly understand the scope of what I felt for John.  

When I’m done, a hush falls over the crowd, as if they’re unsure whether to clap or not, as if they’re all grieving along with me for the loss of such a beautiful person.  In the end, there is respectful applause, and some people hold lighters up as if in tribute.  I try to dry the tears forming in my eyes, but I can’t.  

The song took me nearly two years to complete, because I couldn’t find just the right words to put down.  And in the end, I decided to just go with the rawest form of the truth, no matter how much it hurts to sing about.  But in the end, I could only make it a little over two minutes long, because my voice would catch in my throat when I went to record it.  And now is the first time I’ve performed it live, and it feels slightly liberating to cry in front of an audience like this.  So I just stand there, letting the feelings wash over me, thinking consciously about his death.

“I don’t usually like to think about John’s death,” I say into the microphone, feeling like I need to say something, or I’ll never be able to move on to the next song.  “But I have to take the time to acknowledge him now.  I know that first day, I said that his death was ‘a drag.’  Well, that doesn’t even begin to cover the way I felt about it.  I felt lost beyond words.  I felt like I was suffocating.  Because, really, John was a beautiful man, and people like him shouldn’t have to get shot.  It came as a shock, really.  One day I was calling him up on the phone, talking to him about his new record, or about Sean, and the next, I couldn’t.

“I just never let myself think about it.  I rarely ever let it hit me.  I just like to imagine that he’s still here, but we barely talk.  And then it begins to build, and I begin to miss him more and more, and I want to just pick up the phone and call him, but I can’t, and that’s when his death hits me again.  Every time, without fail.  It feels nearly like I just found out.  I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking about him.  It’s impossible, when he’s such a legacy.

“So one day, after thinking extensively about him, and his life, and his death, I sat down and I finally found the words to finish this song and sing it.  And I just wanted to remind everyone what a beautiful person John Lennon truly was.  Because he was.  I’ve never worked with someone as talented as him, never had a friendship as deep.”

 My hands shake, and I stop talking.  I’ve never said that much before in a concert.  Never really liked spilling my guts in front of a live audience.  I was always supposed to keep it in.  I always conditioned myself for that, especially after his death.  And yet, I’ve just let out so much.  But it’s not nearly enough.  Nothing will ever be enough until I can stand up on a stage one day and tell the entire world I loved John Lennon, and still do, to this day.  I just don’t know if that will ever be possible.