I remember a Monday night in December of 1980, coming home from work and having our three-year-old daughter Emmie tell me “a bad man shot Sgt. Pepper.”
And I remember when she came home from school some fourteen years later, having heard the news myself and seeing the look on her face.
I told her how deeply sorry I was for her loss.
“Kurt Cobain” could be any name in this story. “John Lennon” just a name in mine.
But when you find someone who can hear the words of the echoes in your mind and make sense of them, help you make sense of them, the loss is devastating.
This is a touching, brilliant reflection of such a tragedy.
I passed it on to Emmie, posted it on her Facebook page, and she said it perfectly: