If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Epilogue

Epilogue

July 11, 1974

The sun crept higher in the sky as morning gave way to early afternoon. I sat on a patch of grass, my legs stretched long in front of me and my ankles crossed. This time I wasn't bitter about the lovely weather...I wasn't wishing for rain to match my mood because my mood wasn't as somber as it had been in the years immediately following her death. I was older now, wiser, and I had more experience with loss, grief, and finding ways to move forward.

Sixteen years without her. Sometimes it felt like minutes, other times like an eternity. But this year, unlike the rest, I was finally ready. At least I hoped I was.

I'd asked John to let me come early so I could have a bit of time alone with my thoughts...time to prepare. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, pushing out a long, soothing breath. And I stayed that way for a long while.

"You don't change, do you?" John's voice came from above me, announcing his arrival. "You're still waitin' for a bird to shit in yer mouth."

"I keep waitin', but they have lousy aim." I didn't move or open my eyes, but a smirk tugged at my lips as I reminisced about the past...of the time countless years ago when he'd caught me with my mouth open basking in the sun, waiting for him to arrive outside of the cemetery to sit with me. "Hope you're not thinkin' of doin' what I think you're thinkin'."

His breath tickled my cheek. "Me aim's better than a bird's. Wanna see?"

"Don't you dare spit in my mouth, John bloody Lennon." I pressed my hand against his chest and shoved him away as my eyes popped open. His mouth was wide and ready, and I rolled my eyes at his immaturity. "Christ, how old are you? Thirty-three goin' on nineteen?"

His lips spread into a slight smile. He wore a dark blue shirt under a fitted black jacket and had on tight jean trousers over brown boots. The ends of his long, wavy hair stuck out of a hat, and sunglasses covered his eyes. Without another word, John leaned forward, his mouth now closed, saving me from his grotty saliva, and wrapped his hand around mine. He gently pulled me up from the ground. I dusted off my high-waisted purple swing dress and rubbed a hand over a kink in my back. John pressed a kiss against my temple and urged me forward.

As we walked, we were as silent as we had been the first time we met to mourn the loss of our mothers, back when John had found me sitting outside of Allerton Cemetery as I tried to find the courage to cross the threshold to visit my mum.

My hand slipped into John's, and with the other, I adjusted my sunglasses and then Mum's pearl earrings which hung from my ears. And this time, for the first time, we continued beyond the cemetery entrance.

Our mothers' resting spots were near each other, and they were a bit of a walk away...but it was a walk I was grateful for. I needed time to compose myself, time to breathe, and time to think about what this moment would mean to me. I had known for a long time that this day would eventually come, the day when we finally visited our mums' actual gravesites, but I never thought it would take sixteen years. And my heart still hammered at the thought, no matter how much preparing I'd done.

I peered up at John, his aquiline nose still as perfect as ever. Countless words churned in my mind because I wanted to say so many things but instead, I found myself saying nothing.

So much had happened since Brian died of what had ultimately been deemed an accidental overdose. And his death hadn't been caused by one massive overdose, but rather a series of smaller, unintentional overdoses that led to a buildup of drugs in his system. Since that summer, there'd been more Beatles albums, epic rows, distractions, the birth of our little boy, trips to India, countless photoshoots, activism, a quest for peace...and eventually, the end of the Beatles.