John gave Sean five solid years of love, companionship, friendship and care. But John's struggle to get to that point in his life is something that Sean will only read about, hear about and learn to fully understand as the years go by. To Sean, John must have seemed the ideal Dad. Someone to wrestle with, visit the park with whenever the mood struck the two of them, someone who taught him to swim and who doted on his each every accomplishment. But the road from John's home on Menlove Avenue to the "family man" who resided at 1 West 72nd Street was a long and rocky one. So many dragons to slay. So little time.

Over the years that we knew John, he told us in so many ways that his childhood had scarred him. The separations. The rejections. "Mother, you left me, but I never left you. I needed you, but you didn't need me." John's lack of a loving, close family life colored everything that happened to him in his life. I believe it made it difficult for John to trust or love anyone. Especially himself. His outward cynicism, cruel remarks that sometimes seemed to come from nowhere, his drinking and drug problems all seemed to stem from the search he'd been making from the time he was a young boy to find that complete love, that satisfying, fulfilling love that he had been denied.

His Mother's death when he was only 16 was the final blow. Friends saw John grow introspective... and angry. That anger would stay with him until he finally found what he'd been searching for all those years.

You can't look back at John's early days without acknowledging the influence of Aunt Mimi. The famous Aunt Mimi. The one who told John he'd better get a real job.."The guitar's all right, John, but...." Aunt Mimi gave John some sense of stability for awhile, but his relationship with her was an ongoing battle. Her conservative views clashed with John's rebelliousness causing many disagreements throughout the years.

Just think of who John might have been if his family life had been more stable. I doubt that we ever would have heard of him. His unresolved anger and insecurity is what made John's music and art so personal and compelling. Gave it that edge that we call "genius."

John enjoyed the successes that the Beatles had in the beginning. But a successful career does not make a good substitute for someone to call "family." That one person who connects in every way and who gives you the courage to be who and what you want to be. John's marriage to Cynthia did not provide that security for John. By 1967, it was apparent that they had grown a million miles apart since those early days at art college. Cynthia was frightened by the new path the Beatles were taking - a path that was leading them to more experimental drugs and philosophies - but John was ready and eager to try new things.

Into this atmosphere, Yoko arrived on the scene.

John sang in "Don't Let Me Down," "I'm in love for the first time" and I think those words were the truest John had sung to that point. Even though, or maybe because, Yoko had also come from an unconventional family background (she had to make appointments to see her Father; she was closer to her nannies than to her Mother), John and Yoko as a team seemed to fulfill that sense of family that niether of them had known as children and young adults. This fulfillment manifested itself in unusual ways, of course, with the two of them going off into a corner to be a family, by themselves. "Once upon a time there were two balloons called Jock and Yoko. They were together, man."

John and Yoko were totally independent. Completely self-contained and self-sufficient as Yoko would describe it later. It drove their friends and Beatle fans crazy, driving a deeper wedge between JohnandYoko and those people, ultimately causing John even more pain. His friends were insulting the person he had finally found who he could call "family" and it made him even angrier than he had been before. At his friends, the fans, sometimes at Yoko and always at himself.

John was still fighting life rather than living it. Even primal scream therapy couldn't completely purge the demons that were living deep inside his soul. The pressures of being who he was, the fight to stay in the United States, the struggle to understand himself, culminated in a final self-destructive binge in what turned out to be the middle of John and Yoko's marriage. The infamous "Lost Weekend" in Los Angeles could be considered John's last attempt to be so bad that no one would love him anymore - in turn, he wouldn't have to love anyone else either.

But after a little over a year apart, when John saw Yoko again and as they describe it, their eyes met backstage at an Elton John concert, it was the moment of truth for John. The moment when he realized once and for all that he had finally found what he'd been looking for; in fact, had found it when he met Yoko the first time. The search was over. What a shock for someone who is ever-searching to finally realize that what's been missing, has already been found. Then what do you do?

For John, what to do was cancel the subscription to "Billboard" and try a new way of living. Family-style.

The five "semi-retirement" years from 1975 to 1980 were a mystery to the fans and even to many of John and Yoko's friends. Like that first discovery of love back in the late 60's, John and Yoko seemed to feel the need to huddle together again in self-discovery. What were they doing in that apartment for all those years?

John and Yoko have since told us they were living, loving, baking bread, taking care of business, getting healthy and raising Sean. John told interviewer David Sheff, that Sean was his "biggest pride." He monitored every bite Sean took to assure a healthy diet. He taught him to "swim like a fish" at the Y. He spent hours and hours with Sean and ignored the friends who were telling the press that "John's going overboard; he thinks he has to spend every minute with his son. What about us? What about the parties?" John knew what he was doing.

Sean's legacy from his Father isn't the music, art or clever words on paper that John left the rest of us. Sean's legacy is the lasting effect of John's love. You can see it in the playful twinkle in his eye. His upbeat view of life. The ease with which talk of "peace" rolls off his tongue.

Sean isn't possessed by the restlessness and anger that fueled his Father's art and music for most of his life. People have described Sean as laid back and easy going. A nice person. Witty and open. Friendly and even "magical." John gave Sean the childhood, the security and love that he had lacked as a boy in Liverpool. The peace of mind that it took him almost his whole life to find. John gave Sean the best of times for five years. He had the courage to turn away from his peers who were scolding him for being a "househusband" instead of a rock and roll star, because he had found his family in Yoko. Your family gives you the courage to be what you want to be, and John desperately wanted to be a great Father to Sean for the first character-building years of his life.

John left us with so many beautiful things, much of it coming from his pain. It almost makes me feel guilty enjoying the music so much when I know that when John was crying for "help!", he really needed it. But as we look back and remember John on his birthday, it's satisfying to realize that of all the things John created, the best and most fulfilling creation - for him - was his family. Aunt Mimi had said that John was sending for his own childhood memorabilia in his final days. He truly had made peace with his past.

"Double Fantasy" was John and Yoko's healing family album. Some critics were disappointed that John wasn't on the edge, screaming his guts out a'la "Plastic Ono Band." John's agonizing "Mother" had become the soothing "Woman" which suited me just fine. Love is real. And John had finally lived real love. He'd suffered enough for his art. It was time for joy.

The tragedy that Sean was robbed of his Father at such an early stage in his life was also a blessing in disguise. The ironic twist of fate is, five-year-olds heal quickly. By the time they realize the finality and forever of death, they've lived another lifetime. Sean doesn't seem to dwell on John's death and neither should we.

"What if" John really were 47 this year? How would all of our lives be different?

"What if" is a question for a time that will never be.

John had finally found the answers for an important time that was.

Happy birthday, Sean.

(Postcard from John sent to a fan in Poland.)