Soon it will be 43 years…

And I still cry.

I heard the news on the radio, while waking up so I could get read for work. I didn’t want to go to work. My husband didn’t understand — “He was just a singer…” My 10 year old daughter was afraid I would cancel her upcoming birthday party since I was so upset.

But he was (and still is — no matter what has been written about him) one of my heroes. He was John Lennon, murdered on December 8, 1980 in front of The Dakota and in front of his wife as they came home from a recording session.

Without John, there would have been no Beatles. And without The Beatles I might have stayed in my depression after 11/22/1963.

So, yes, John was important. I used to say, “I have a crush on Paul but I want to BE John…” intelligent, creative, a bit difficult, but loved…

For many years I would take a day off on December 8, go to New York City by bus and take a cab to “72nd and Central Park West.” I would walk into the Park to “Strawberry Fields” and, with sometimes hundreds of others, stand by the “Imagine” mosaic. Sometimes I would cry.

Eleven years ago I remarried and with his health issues and now my own, I haven’t been back to Strawberry Fields — except in my heart.

Millions miss you, John — I’m just one old lady. Hope to finally meet you — and George.