Memories of JohnWhen John passed away so suddenly that night, I felt as though half of me flew away with him. My body, especially my knees, shook so badly, I had to hold on to a friend to walk out of the hospital. Spring came and went. Summer. I was surprised that the leaves were shining so intensely when John was no more. It seemed like a crime, that everything else was still so alive. Fall was beautiful. And Winter. I realized then that the winters would be hard for some time.

Twenty-five years have passed since then. I am all right when I am with people, my son, and my daughter. I smile, I laugh. I look up at the sky and let my heart dance. I hug my children-even though it’s more accurate to say that they hug me, since they are much larger than me now. But when I’m alone, when the evening light starts to drench the world in pink, in the dark of the night and at dawn, my heart still shakes and will not stop.

People always ask me when will I write about my life with John. I repeat my answer that I am not ready yet. Will I ever be ready? I don’t feel I would be. I feel I could not open that part of my heart while it’s still shaking.

This book was such a blessing for me. I cherished reading each one of the vignettes. Each writer was so sincere in their love for John, it immediately relaxed me. They were so funny, too. Great wits! Fantastic minds! I could not believe that so many of John’s and my friends suddenly revealed themselves as great writers. I kept saying to them in my mind, “Don’t stop. You should have been a writer. Well, you still could be.” They made me laugh belly laughs. I haven’t laughed so much since Woody Allen’s last film, I thought. And that was quite a while ago. … I laughed and laughed. And then I cried. Tears were streaming out of me, uncontrollably, and would not stop even after the last page-which came too soon. . . .

What a beautiful project this book turned out to be. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I have. As John used to say after our successful projects-in our eyes, that is-we have to make a “son of” very soon. Thank you, my friends, for still carrying those memories and sharing them with us, and especially, with me. I am a lucky woman.

Yoko Ono Lennon
Spring 2005

From the introduction of ‘Memories of John’