Quarter of a Century without John.

I still remember the first time I realised that John Lennon was gone.

While growing up, Poochie and I had a secret game called "Lend me a Cart" - In this game, we were married to Paul and John - the name of the game isn't that random after all - respectively. One day, Chaklu being Chaklu, barged into the room and demanded to know what we were upto. For reasons I cannot remember, we revealed our otherwise well-kept secret to him.

"Haha, you're YOKO!!!!" he told me.

"No, I'm not! He married me AFTER her," I retorted smugly, refusing to be deprived the pleasure of being married to the most beautiful man in the world. Chaklu probably realised this, and decided to use another tactic. It worked.

"Your husband is a GHOST!" he said gleefully.

I'd always known of his assassination, of course, but this was the first time I realised its implications. John Lennon didn't exist anymore. He would never be my husband. I would never sing back up for him on the "The Night Before." All that was left were songs and photographs and memories borrowed from our parents. In fact - Poochie, do you remember this? - after all the teasing and crying like the 5 year old I was, we never played that game again. Perhaps it was only because its clandestine nature had been ruined, but for me, I was seriously scarred by the realisation.

15-odd years later, it still fills me with profound sadness when I think of it. And I didn't even exist when he was shot; we were never alive at the same time.

I don't think I can even begin to desribe the influence Johnny's music has had on my life- Its ability to delicately trap memories, its dutiful marriage to language, its fondness for creating the unlikeliest friendships, the sweet nothings it whispers into your ears like a worshipping lover.

Over and above this impossible talent lay his devastating humanity; his ability to fuck up and admit it, (Man I was mean, but I'm changing my scene and I'm doing the best that I can), his often naive but undeniably beautiful political vision, (All we are saying is give peace a chance) and his wicked, wicked sense of humour. (Will the people in the cheaper seats clap your hands? And the rest of you, if you'll just rattle your jewellery).

I feel the sorrow, oh I feel the dreams
Everything is clear in my heart
I feel life, oh I feel love
Everything is clear in our world

Rest in Peace, Beautiful Boy.