I Remembered You

What happens after? When your body is empty and all that's left is a shell? And when even that disappears? When all that's remains are your words and your name and you best deed?

I know what happens when people are forgotten. When they really start slipping through your fingers like vapor.

When they start forgetting, remembering you makes them all the more special to you.

Of course, most of us can't even remember what we had for breakfast.

Most of us. Not me. I'm special, apparently.



November 29, 2001

I carefully lit four candles. A tall black one, a red cylinder, a blue one that smelled like the sea, and a white orb candle. I clicked off my lamp and closed the door, hopefully blocking the fumes from the smoke detector outside my door.

This wasn't a plan to burn my house down. It was a sorta-ritual for those spiritual-mystic types. Like me. I read about it in this book and I thought I'd try it today. Especially today.

I'd gotten the book from some hippies that live near me. They seemed to know I was one of those somber kids that listened to the 'hippie music'. They weren't much older than my parents, and they were nice, if not a bit weird. They gave me books to read and music to listen to. Lots of it. One band in particular. They told me how they changed the world. My parents told me they were reason they met.

That was five years ago, when I was younger. Deaths of close people have opened my eyes. I got what they were singing about all those years ago. They taught me how to feel through their music. Happiness, love, companionship, need, want, sadness... Anguish... Forgiveness... All this from four once handsome men I'd never meet. That I could never thank.

Until I found an entry about talking to ghosts. Now, I'm quite the science buff, but I'm not legally an adult, so I still have a strong belief in ghosts. I decided to try it. It wasn't like I was selling my soul to the devil.

You're supposed to be in a calm state of mind, and what's more relaxing than my private, dark, warm, bedroom?

Next step: turn off all artificial light. Easy, since I hated bright light. I mainly just use the one lamp most of the time, though I do have a second one. The actual light fixture hasn't been used for years. I disabled the switch a while before I got the lamps.

Third: Stay relaxed, or rest in a relaxed position, if necessary. Lying down? Definitely relaxing, of not a bit lazy.

Fourth: Try to find the ghosts. They're there, but we are too busy to notice them. Until we have nothing to do but look.

I inhaled the scent of the blue candle. I tried to imagine scores and scores of white angels. If you know Greek mythology, try to think of the endless sea of souls filling every space in the Fields of Asphodel.

After about half an hour, I sighed and switched on my music. Brainwashed by George was on. I thought about the words. We really were all brainwashed if people my age were getting so stupid glued to the newest phones and listening to crap music.

Then P2 Vatican Blues (Last Saturday Night) was on. (How did I even remember that?) I sorts blanked out. Music was the only thing I never really made an effort to think about. It just put me in a trace, where I was aware of everything. It seemed to even be a physical part of me, unconsciously used and natural.

Then I saw them. All over. Sitting on my bed, lying on the ground, leaning against the wall. They all seemed to be the spiritual and intellectual types. I gaped at them. They saw I could see them and waved pleasantly. They didn't seem fazed at all that I could see them.

The song switched to Rock 'n' Roll by Led Zeppelin. All the ghosts faded and more teenage rocker ghosts became clearer. It seemed they were always around, but some got clearer if something caught their interest.

I experimented. Twist and Shout got a bunch of fangirls that I particularly liked, and Yellow Submarine got a bunch of moms and their little kids.

I'm assuming that once you do this once, it never goes away, because I could walk around and still see the ghosts. I couldn't stop seeing them now.

I turned off the music. Most of them faded, and a few stuck around for a few seconds to see what I was doing, then left. I guess I'm not that interesting.

"It must be cool," I said. "Being able to wander the whole world and not being noticed my anyone. But it's gotta be torture."

I saw a few of them nod.

"Why put up with it? All that happens is that you all get depressed."

"Maybe because it's the only thing to do now."

I jumped. A ghost was sitting on the edge of my bed. He smiled at me, his long brown hair falling in his face, and his circular glasses instantly recognizable.

"J- John? What are you doing here?"

"Well, you caught my attention as I was passing by. Simple as that. Not many girls your age are as clever as you are. Or aware. Or sad."

"Girl? I'm not a toddler. I'm just... young looking... Is it really you?"

"It is. How come you found us with the candles? That was out of style long before I was born."

"I read it from an old book. And I mean REALLY old. Any older and it might as well sit in the Smithsonian in America. Giant American museum."

"Ah whatever. I got a D in history anyways."

I just lay there, absorbing everything. I must have muttered something, because he looked at me and said "what?"

"They must miss you so much."

"Who?"

"Everyone that knew you. Paul, Ringo, Yoko, Julian, Sean, Cyn. I miss him and I barely know him."

"Him? I'm sitting on your bed. I AM John. Or is John and the little girl supposed to be talking in the third person?"

"No. It's just I could never know... John... How could I ever meet someone that means so much. Plus, John's.. Brilliant. What would he do here?"

"Eh, I'm bored as hell. And I might as well hear what the newest generation is saying. So you really like my stuff?"

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? You'd have to be crazy!"

"If that's true, then there are a lot of crazy people out there. No one remembers me or George."

"You kidding me? You're the most famous band in the world, for all the right reasons. How could you say that?"

"That's all they remember. I'm just the dead hippie that was in the Beatles. They don't remember there's a face behind the mic."

"There are still a few of us that remember. I mean, you're that idiot that quit school and ran to Germany in hopes to make it big. And then he did. He's given up everything so he could marry the girl he loved. And frankly, he drives me mad."

He smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I drive you mad?"

"Of course. You act immature and silly and it's embarrassing."

"I annoy you and you don't know me. Imagine what would happen if you did know me."

"Probably something not good. It would start with me meeting you and end with me going to jail because I killed you."

"Too late to kill me, luv. Someone already beat you to it."

"No. Don't even say that. That's horrible."

"I know. So what makes you special enough to catch my attention?"

"You tell me."

He smiled at me.

"Well, you're spiritual, or else the candles wouldn't have worked. It's a small chance that you can see us. Not many of you left."

We ended up talking for hours. He was witty and smart and every bit as nice as I thought he was.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the music. You have no idea what it means to me."

"No need to thank me. All I did was scribble down words and give them a tune. No big deal."

"It is for us. It's the best music on the planet."

"Yeah, but it's just the same stuff. It never changes."

"Except today."

"Why? What happened?"

"You didn't know? George.... Passed away today. Lung cancer."

He stared at me.

"George? No. He can't be. No. No. You sure? Sure this isn't like Paul is Dead?"

"Certain. Everyone's heartbroken. That's the reason I tried the candles. Something to distract me from this."

He stood up, and I saw tears in his eyes.

"I have to see him. It's been so long. I have so many things to say. So many apologies."

My heart sank a bit.

"Oh. Bye then."

He stepped forward.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I'll come back, I swear. I just have to see him. You understand. It's been so long."

"I do. I'll probably do the same thing one day. But hopefully I won't die for a long time."

"Ok. I'll be back ASAP. Don't worry. I won't forget. I promise."

He smiled at me, then faded away.




He didn't come back for weeks. It must have been January by then.

The dead made pretty decent company while I waited. Mainly kids. I almost started to think he'd forgotten.

Then one day, I woke up to find him sitting on my bed, smiling.

"See? I remembered you. The girl with the smart mouth that thinks she's all that."

"Oh shut up. I thought you forgot."

He patted my hand softly. It was strangely warm, and... solid...

"I told you I wouldn't forget, and you didn't believe me. Now, remember when we were talking about how I have the physical form and you said it was powered by memories or knowledge or something like that and I said I had no clue?"

"Yeah?"

He looked over his shoulder.

"Well? Bursting with personal opinions? Don't wanna get stood up by someone a fraction your age?"

"You have no idea," said a voice. A twenty-four year old George Harrison fizzled into view. He sat cross legged, facing me.

"C'mon, ghosts or whatever the hell we are are made of residual consciousness. It's just being self aware. John's so solid because he has no illusions about who he is."

"No look. C'mere."

I reached out and touched the back of his hand.

"Yep. Feels just as solid and human as John. Or maybe it's powered by imagination. Who are the only people that reportedly see ghosts? Schizophrenics, kids, mourners, the paranoid. Maybe it's not a crazier state of mind. Maybe it's a higher state."

"Maybe it's the strength of the person's belief in God or Heaven."

We talked back and forth like that for about an hour. We never actually got anywhere, but it was fun, and George is a really nice and smart guy to talk to.

Eventually the topic turned to music, and I said I loved his stuff. Even his last album was amazing to me.

"Though the videos for Cracker Box Palace and This Song were definitely on the weird side," I said.

"Yeah, I was still in my Monty Python phase then."

"Is that an excuse for your music videos getting a billion times weirder?"

"Yeah. What can I say? I thought it was a good idea at the time. Not so much now."

We talked for maybe another half an hour before John popped in right in the middle of me and George discussing song chord 'feeling'.

"Sorry George, but we have to go. Your mum said she needed to talk to you." He turned to me. "I'm sorry. Really. I won't take as long to come back. I promise."

He hugged me. Weird, being hugged by a ghost.

"You better, or I'll be right mad."

"Oh alright. Go on George, say goodbye and let's go."

He gave me a quick hug and even a peck on the cheek.

"Bye. Come and say hi. Y'know, if you're not busy or anything..."

"Sure. I'd love to. Or maybe just give a shout. Say one of my pseudonyms."

"No offense, but your fake names aren't the best. Harry Georgeson? C'mon, at least make something original, though Di Angelo Misterioso was pretty good."

He took my hand and squeezed it for a second.

"Thanks. So I'll see you soon?"

"I guess. Bye."

He faded away, but not before shooting me a fanged smile. He looked about 19 by then, with that short moptop that looked too adorable.



It seems that, as unreal as it may seem, John Lennon can keep a promise. He came back the next day, and we talked again. Nothing in particular, just everything. I fell asleep that night with him sitting beside me.

George came again the day after. I was in public, so I just put my cell phone to my ear to cover it up to everyone else. And that's when I started keeping in touch with two dead Beatles.

As expected, they're busy people, ad they have agendas of their own, but they always seemed to squeeze me in, even if it was for moment or two. George especially, who seemed to pop by almost every day, and if not, the day after, which I thought was amazing. I found out eventually that he realized he basically had forever to spend doing whatever he wanted, so he focused right now on getting to know me, which I thought was nice.

He told me about what happens up there, so I learned about his family and friends from him. I met a few of the people that came to see what he was up to. His mum, Brian, who was a pretty nice bloke, and John. John was dragging George out for so many reasons. It made me feel a bit bad, since it felt like I was hogging him a bit.

But John was always sneaking away to have a chat too, so I saw his aunt and mum sometimes. He even brought his stillborns with Yoko. They were cute kids, and they would constantly hide from John and he'd forget them with me. Then we'd have a few minutes of fun until John realized he had forgotten his children  and come back.

Genius. Pure genius.

Over the months, I got used to John and George whispering advice in my ear. It was a bit annoying, but useful for tests.

Eventually I got older, and they still hung around. I could tell who could see ghosts too, and knew they knew too. They would usually stare at John and George, along with every other ghost in the vicinity. John was right: there aren't many of us. I've seen about a two dozen since I started talking to John. One of those people happened to become one of my best friends later on.

One of the best things about them was that they had learned about so many things, so I could never got bored talking to them when we did talk. And they showed me a couple things on the guitar and piano along the way.

I'm much older now. I got married a few years ago. George still visited often, and John and George both liked Connor, my husband. I gave birth to a beautiful girl one and a half years ago. Her name is Jillian. Dark brown hair and light brown eyes, and she's the most important thing in my life. John and George helped me in motherhood, and I am grateful.

Connor can't see John and George. That would have been too coincidental. and weird. He doesn't question my muttering. He just thinks I'm a genius.

Of course, Jillian noticed, she heard me talking aloud and looked around for whoever I was talking to. It was adorable, seeing her toddling around confused and young.

George and all the others could hide themselves to the living, but it doesn't work if the person's like me, so George stopped hiding around me after a year Jillian was born.

So imagine our surprise when George was wiggling his fingers over her head as a joke, and Jillian reached up, looked right at George, and giggled.