In the history of The Beatles, there are moments that the world remembers — Shea Stadium, Abbey Road, Ed Sullivan. But behind the blinding lights and screaming crowds, there existed private, fragile moments of brotherhood.
One of the most poignant came the day John Lennon’s mother, Julia, was tragically killed. John was devastated, a man of sharp wit suddenly stripped bare by grief. Reporters never caught the raw emotion, but Paul McCartney did.
Paul, who had also lost his own mother at a young age, understood John’s pain like no one else could. That evening, away from the chaos of fame, John leaned into Paul, not as a bandmate, but as a brother. Paul embraced him, and for a rare moment, the world’s most famous songwriter was simply a grieving son in need of comfort.
Years later, John would write “Julia” — a haunting, delicate song that carried the ache of that moment. But the embrace from Paul that night was perhaps the first healing note.
It wasn’t about the music. It wasn’t about The Beatles.
It was about love, friendship, and carrying each other through the unbearable.
