Losing Our Heroes: The Night John Lennon Died

Tonight is a rough night in my family. My youngest daughter's hero, Edd Gould, a creator of humorous flash animation, passed away on Sunday after a long battle with cancer. He was only 24 years old. His passing was announced earlier today.

Unfortunately for my daughter, a sensitive artistic-type, this news hit her extremely hard. Several months ago I made a trip to the post office to mail a package to England. Inside was an original art work my daughter had made for Edd to help cheer him up. I am now so glad that she made it and I sent it.

I was reminded of that dark night over 30 years ago when I heard that John Lennon had been murdered. The first thing I did was call my old best friend from high school, Zed. John Lennon was our hero. Like many of our generation, we revered the man who was always taking on the establishment while searching out a better world. Unfortunately, Zed and I had grown distant as my friend had descended into a hazy world of drug abuse. The drugs had completely changed him. He was not the same person. The first major sorrow in my life was seeing my best friend's brain destroyed. He had been wickedly brilliant, possibly the most clever person I had ever know up to that point in my life. But that guy was long gone.

Fighting back tears, I called my old friend and bleated out "Someone's killed John Lennon." His nonchalant reply: "Yeah, man, that's too bad."

Hell of a night. My hero had died and I was reminded that my best friend had, in a sense, also died. A little part of me also died that night.

So tonight my little angel unfortunately has learned one of those difficult life lessons we all learn one way or another. She'll learn that things get better as time goes on, but she'll never be the same. We never are, even years and years later.