Short Story

The Eighth Of December

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

A tribute to John Lennon who was taken from us on this date in 1980. Many of you have read this; many of you who are new to my site have not. Please indulge me one more time. Roughly four years ago I had the great pleasure and honor of narrating a few of my stories on the BBC Radio program called  “Upload”. I also submitted my story, “The Eighth of December”, never expecting to receive an email from the program manager of the radio station asking me if I’d like to read my story and do a live interview. To us here in The States, The BBC is a pretty big deal so I was rather blown away and, despite my nerves, I agreed to the interview. The format of the radio station has since changed and “Upload” was replaced by another show; it’s now impossible to find my interview. All I have is my story; every word is true. This is “The Eighth of December”.

The Dakota, home of John Lennon at the time of his death.
The people you see are some of the mourners
who had learned the awful news the night before.
Notice the flag atop the building already at half-mast.

While cradling my year old son David in his bed after a bad dream, I sang softly to him my favorite Beatles song, In My Life. He stared up at me, his blue eyes moist with tears. Slowly his breathing became calm and his eyelids began to flutter. At last he was asleep and I kissed his eyes, removing the last traces of salty droplets as I pulled up his covers.

Closing the door gently behind me, I went back downstairs where my husband Bill was watching Monday Night Football. One look at him as he sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, told me his team must have been playing very badly. I kidded him about being so upset over a game but he didn’t react. I called his name and when he looked up at me there were tears running down his face. Something was terribly wrong.

I sat next to him and he turned to me, taking my hands in his. As if in some sort of fog, Bill told me that John Lennon was dead, shot on the doorsteps of his home, The Dakota. I stared at him in shock. Why would he say such a horrible thing? Who would ever want to hurt John?

He turned the tv volume back on; the game had been interrupted by the report of an incident involving John. I dropped to the floor as the reporter droned on about ‘rapid gun shots’ .. ‘police/John/hospital’ .. ‘dead on arrival’.

I cried uncontrollably and kept repeating no! no! no! as Bill held me in his arms and I sobbed in unimaginable sorrow and disbelief. We sat on the floor for a long time, clinging to each other, unable to stop our tears or unhear the words coming from the tv.

At one point our three year old son Billy crept down the stairs, frightened and wondering what was wrong with mommy. My husband quickly scooped him up and brought him to his room, whispering that mommy was very sad about something she saw on tv and she would be ok tomorrow.

But I was not ok the next day. I was not ok the next week. I was never truly ok after that night. No living, loving soul was ever ok again. The entire world was grieving.

Now, all these years later, as I cradle my grandbabies in my arms and rock them to sleep, I sing In My Life and I remember John. 

NAR©2024
Orig. pub. 2018

This is “In My Life” by the Beatles

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy (The Sicilian Storyteller), The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

29 thoughts on “The Eighth Of December”

  4. It was sad, Nancy, and you have given a very touching account. I remember when the Nightingale of India, Lata Mangeshkar breathed her last on 6th February, 2022, many of us cried inconsolably, and one of my friends didn’t eat anything the whole day.

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  6. Wow, Nancy, I’m not ashamed to admit reading your story made me well up. “In My Life” is one of my all-time favorites by John Lennon. When I listen to Johnny Cash’s raw rendition, I usually lose it.

    I feel John’s murder is a musical equivalent to JKF’s assassination. Most folks who were around when both killings happened still remember where they were and what they were doing when they heard the shocking news.

    When John’s life was take, I was a 14-year-old in Germany. I was still becoming the big Beatles fan I am today. As such, while I was sad about John’s death, I wasn’t devastated. However, my great guitar teacher who was a huge Beatles fan and was supposed to give me a lesson that day, was completely out of it when he arrived at my house in the late afternoon/early evening.

    We quickly forgot about practicing the guitar and instead went to the living room to switch on the TV and watch the early evening news. That same night, a well-known DJ and Beatles expert did a special on my favorite pop radio station. I taped it on music cassette, and that MC is still be floating around.

    Unfortunately, my music on cassettes, vinyl and CDs has been completely disorganized since water damage destroyed a large entertainment center in our basement in 2019. The truth is nowadays, I have all music in my phone or on the computer. Meanwhile, my stereo is collecting dust. As a so-called music fan, I’m not exactly proud of it.

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    1. Everything and everyone is streaming live these days, Christian. I wouldn’t be ‘ashamed’ about your stereo condition. One day you may get back into it.

      I was was 12 years old when JFK was killed; I remember everything about that day just as I remember everything about John’s killing. It makes me incredibly sad when I dwell on it; I cannot understand how one person can take another’s life, especially someone as peaceful as John.

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      1. I know, it’s cruel irony, isn’t it? While no musician I know is a saint, John certainly promoted messages of peace and hope in gems like “Give Peace a Chance”, “Happy Xmas” and “Imagine.” While a deranged individual took his life, nobody will ever be able to take away his great music. That’s a bit of a consolation to me.

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  10. Nancy that was touching… someone just replied on my site…it was “random evil” with no cause whatsoever. I agree I was never the same after…my dad had to remind this 13 year old he wasn’t just a Beatle but a father and husband.

    I was 13 but it hit me hard in my world. Since I was 8 in 1975 I read, ate, and slept Beatles. It’s still shocking to this day.

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    1. You had a wise Dad to tell you that, Max. John was a part of the fabric of our lives, especially here in NY, his adopted home. He wasn’t a Beatle to us; he was one of us, a peace-loving man who we loved. Yes, he was an icon, but he was also just one of the people, our brother. His murder was devastating, so ruthless, unimaginable, unforgettable and unforgivable. His death changed everything …. to this day things are not the same. People still flock to Strawberry Fields in Central Park. If’s a phenomenon, Max. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s not a day that goes by without someone paying their respects …. not one day of the year. Incredible.

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      1. Thanks Nancy. Yes my Dad turned him into a real human being and he was never a fan but made sure I knew. I grew up some that night. Lennon loved New York and I’ve read where some wanted him to have a body guard…but he said if someone got killed trying to protect him he wouldn’t be able to live with that. That tells you a lot about him.
        Whenever I make it to New York I will go there of course.

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          1. No I haven’t…my son was there around a year ago. I will make it! I also want to go to the MLB Hall of Fame in Cooperstown NY…I’m a huge baseball fan.

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