The Life of Edward Hughes

May 19, 1955

Mandatory counseling is better than jail time, I suppose. I guess I owe the Judge that much. My therapist’s name is Judy. To be honest, I think she’s a quack. Yeah, that’s right Judy. I hope you read this. I don’t want to talk to you. You’re forcing me to write in this stupid journal. Journaling is stupid. And so are you. There… I’ve written something this week. I guess you can sign off on my timesheet.

May 26, 1955

Back again. Apparently, writing any words I feel like doesn’t count towards my time served. Yes, that's how I’m phrasing it. Get over it. This is time served. I don’t want to be here.

This week I’m supposed to write about what went wrong. So here goes. My girlfriend cheated on me with my best friend, James. I confronted him, and we had it out. By the end of the “fight” (if you want to call it that), I had done enough damage to hospitalize him. He deserved it. I’m not sorry. That’s how life goes sometimes. There are consequences for one's actions.

July 4, 1955

I’ve been talking with Judy for over a month now and I have to admit, I’m feeling better. I didn’t think I needed it, but having someone there to listen to my problems has been somewhat cathartic. And this whole journal thing… It's okay. I’m gonna try and continue to write once every week, maybe more or less, depending. But I do think it helps make me feel more calm. 

This is the first holiday without Elaine. Her and James are a thing now. That still makes me angry, my ex girlfriend and my ex best friend, shacking up. But it’s not something I can control, so I’m learning to move past it. 

I met this really cute gal at the farmers market a few days ago. Her name is Annabel. We’re going on a date this Friday. I hope it goes well. Will report back, I guess? To myself, in this journal? Great… Now I’m talking to myself. Send in the men with the white lab coats!

July 8, 1955

I went on that date with Anna. Annabel is her full name, and I think it’s a gorgeous name, but she prefers Anna. And honestly… whatever she says goes. I can't even describe what I’ve got going on inside me right now. Woooo baby, I’m feeling all the feels. She is by far the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. And she’s so smart, and funny, and just… wow. It’s gonna sound crazy, but I’m in love. Mark my words, future me.  I’m gonna marry that girl. Mark. My. Words.

July 31, 1955

Call me crazy, but I’m engaged! We’re getting married next month. I love Anna with all my heart, and I can't wait to start my life with her.

August 19, 1955

My three months of court mandated therapy have been served. I am, in the eyes of the law, ‘rehabilitated’. I can’t say that I'll miss Judy, per se. I’m sick of having to go to those sessions and spill my guts out. That’s what I have Anna for now, and will for the rest of my life. I guess, in a sense, she was the one who truly rehabilitated me. Can’t wait for next Friday, when I can officially call her MY WIFE!

I’ve decided I’m going to keep writing in this journal. Maybe big life events. Maybe small things. I don’t know, just yet. But I can’t seem to let it go entirely, either. There’s something refreshing about getting things down on paper. I probably won't stick with it. But maybe? I guess only time will tell.

August 27, 1955

Married and happy! The wedding was a blast. So much love from our friends and family.

March 1, 1956

Anna’s been sick the last few days, so finally today I took her to the doctor. Turns out, she’s not sick, exactly. She’s pregnant! The doctor estimates she’s about 3 months.  I am so excited! I also just got a promotion at the rail yard, which comes with an additional $20 a week in pay! Could the timing be any more perfect?!

I want a boy, obviously. Anna wants a girl. If it’s a boy, it’ll be Edward Stephen III. How could it not be, right? She’s floated around the name Mary, which is fine. I don’t think it will matter, though. It’ll be a boy. I’m almost sure of it.

August 31, 1956

It’s a girl! A beautiful, sweet, precious little girl, weighing in at 6lbs, 7oz, and 19in long. She is perfect. I thought I'd be upset if it wasn’t a boy, but man was I wrong. She stole my heart the second I saw her. 

And Anna… man was she brave. Giving birth is no easy task, from the looks of it. I am so incredibly proud of her. And, I’d like to add, I’ve never seen her as beautiful as she looked in those few seconds after Mary popped out. I kissed her, deeply, and told her I loved her more than anything in the world. My family of two just grew to three.

August 31, 1957

What a whirlwind of a day! Mary’s first birthday of all days, we find out that she’s getting a brother or sister! We are so excited! Anna is slightly terrified, after the physical and emotional toll from last time. But, she does tell me on at least a daily basis how Mary is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. It pinches my pride a little, knowing it’s not me, but then I look in that little girl's eyes and I agree. She’s perfect. And so is Anna.

Life is good.

February 2, 1962

Wow, I can’t believe it’s been almost five years since I’ve made an entry into this thing. I wish I’d been more on top of updating, but life gets in the way! So much to catch up on.

Cynthia was born on March 3, 1958. She was two months premature, and had to stay in the hospital for three weeks after she was born to be monitored. Luckily, everything was fine, and she’s thrived since. She’s turning four in a month. Crazy how time flies!

Edward Stephen III was born on October 14, 1960. My namesake. My buddy. He’s going through the phases now, learning to talk and such. He creates mischief around the house and he bullies his two older sisters as much as possible. 

Anna is great, as always. My rock. God, I love her.  And the rail yard just made me into a senior manager, which helps. Three kid’s ain’t cheap! 

October 12, 1966

Eddie had his last flag football game of the season today, and he ran the ball in for a touchdown! Kid hasn’t run the ball all year. The smile on his face. I can’t even describe it. Pure bliss. What a day.

While I was in the stands, I looked over and saw Elaine and James. Apparently, they got married. Elaine's nephew was playing on the opposing team. Small world. James wouldn’t make eye contact, but I was the bigger man. I went over and shook his hand, and told them I was happy for them.

After all, they led me to Anna. Sometimes, the darkest moments in life open you up to the brightest future. I had them to thank for that.

June 22, 1974

Mary’s graduating from High School tomorrow! I keep thinking about the day she was born, and that look on Anna’s face of pure joy. And now, she’s all grown up and ready to conquer the world. She’s the smart one (sorry Cynthia and Eddie). I’m proud of her today. I’m proud of her every day. 

Anna planned a whole party to celebrate with Mary’s friends and our families. I tried to help plan, but apparently I don’t have enough of a ‘woman's touch’ for party planning. I don't take that as an insult. I just kissed her and told her how much I love her, like always.

September 18, 1977

My mom died last night. I feel empty inside. She was a great lady, and the best grandma to my three kids. They’re gonna miss her. Eddie, in his Senior year, is gonna take it the toughest, I think. I have to be strong for them.

Right before she died, I asked her if she had any regrets. She simply answered, ‘No matter how much you’ve had, you can never have enough family time. I wish I had more.’

It really makes me think of how lucky I’ve been. I’ve done my best. I’ve never missed a soccer game or a dance recital. I’ve always taken the kids trick or treating on Halloween, and sleigh riding during snowstorms. I’ve done it all. I hope my kids see that. I know Anna does. She tells me damn near every day how perfect of a father I am. And I tell her the same about her as a mother. Man, do I love her. 

But on our dying beds, will we feel that same way? Will we feel like we did enough?

Only time will tell, I guess…

January 5, 1980

I'm going to be a grandfather! I can’t wait! Mary is due in five months. I thought she might be packing a little extra weight, but you can NEVER admit that to a woman. I couldn’t be happier for her and Clint. He’s a good man. 

Speaking of… Cynthia is dating some guy now. He’s very nice, too, but I don’t know if they’ll last. It’s fresh and new. I guess we'll see.

Eddie’s been working at the railyard with me. Some say it’s nepotism, but I’d put him up against any of them and he’d outwork them two to one, not even close. He makes me proud every day.

And Anna… my dear, sweet Anna. I love her more and more every day. I never want to go without saying that.

August 26, 1985

Exactly thirty years ago, I married the perfect person. Today, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I love her more than I could ever write in some ratty, beatdown old journal.

December 1, 1990

It’s about time Eddie got married. That girl he’s marrying is something special, I’ll tell you that. She reminds me of a young Anna, happy as can be and beautiful all around. Proud of my son today. Proud of the man he’s growing up to be.

December 22, 1999

Everyone I know is worried about Y2K. Me? I’m waiting for the results to come back. We were supposed to receive a call today, but the phone hasn’t rung yet. If we're lucky, it’ll be benign. We can go into the new millennium with a fresh outlook on life. Please, God. Let it be benign.

December 23, 1999

It’s malignant. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

***

A man with salt and pepper hair is driving home from work in the dark. His cellphone rings, and the screen says Sunrise Rehabilitation. The date on the phone reads November 15, 2024. He picks up.

“Hello? Yes, this is Edward Hughes.” The man listens, then his face changes to shock. “I’ll be right there. Yes, thank you.” He hangs up, looks in his rearview mirror, and turns around.

A few minutes later, he pulls into Sunrise Rehabilitation center. He parks, turns the ignition off, and stares at the building silently. After taking a deep breath, he reaches underneath the passenger seat and pulls out an old, worn, black moleskin notebook. He tucks it under his arm and makes his way in.

The third door down the hall on the left is slightly open, and he knocks before entering. “Come in!” he hears, and there is a nurse taking an old man's vitals. 

“Evening, Marcy,” Eddie says to the nurse.

“Evening Eddie!” Marcy gives him a smile, then turns her attention back to the old man. “Ed, you have a nice night and a nice visit, now,” she says, then rolls the vitals machine out with her. Eddie looks at the frail old man, laying in the bed.

“Hi, pop,” he says, smiling.

“My son,” Ed says, tears forming in his eyes. “Look how big you’ve gotten. Wow! Come give your old man a hug.” Eddie walks over and hugs his dad, and the tears start flowing from him, too. “How are the girls? And your sisters?”

“Everyone’s great, pop… Cyn and Mary send their love. They’re gonna try and make it here tomorrow, if possible.” He takes a seat next to the bed. “How are you doing? Are they treating you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. They’re fine.” There’s an awkward silence. “They don’t tell me much around here. But I look in the mirror, and I’ve aged. Significantly.” He frowns, and looks over at his son, who isn’t making eye contact. “So have you, from the looks of it. So, be straight with me, son…” 

“Late stage Alzheimer's, pop,” he answers, regrettably. “Today is November 15, 2024. This is the first lucid day you’ve had in the last nine months.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Ed said, his face contorting. Eddie places a comforting hand on his fathers.

“Listen, I need to tell you something,” Eddie says, taking a moment. “They take real good care of you here, but it’s expensive.” He pauses, and gulps.  “We had to sell the house,” he says regrettably, and pauses again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ed replies earnestly. “I’m surprised you held onto it this long.”

“I know how much you loved that house,” Eddie says, then pulls the moleskin notebook out of his bag. “When I was cleaning it out, I found this…” He holds it up, and Ed immediately recognizes it. He reaches for it, takes it in his arms, and holds it like it’s the most important thing in the world to him. 

“You remember it?”

“I do,” Ed says, still holding on tight.

“I thought you’d want it back… In case you ever had a day like today.”

“Thank you, son,” Ed says, then pulls his son towards him. They embrace in a big, long hug. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Eddie nods his head and wipes away the tears. He knows what it means. He read every word of it, and he longed for the days of his father being that man from the journal. The man he was before the worst of times. Back to being the man that raised him. He missed that man deeply.

***

The clock on the wall reads 9:22pm, and Ed is alone, reading the journal in his dimly lit room. He sees the last entry he wrote, dated December 23, 1999, and sees the words ‘It’s malignant.’ He cries, then turns the page.

August 1, 2024

Hey, Pop. If you’re reading this, it means you’re having one of your good days. Alzheimer's is a bitch, and it doesn't give you many of those days anymore. I wanted you to know that we’re closing on the sale of the house next week. While I was cleaning it out, I found this journal, and read every word. 

In your September 1977 entry, right after grandma died, you asked the question ‘will we feel like we did enough?’ If you ever get to read this, and I hope to god you do, I want you to know that the answer to that question is unequivocally YES. I can't honestly explain to you how much I appreciate you. You were the best father I ever could have asked for, and the best role model to look up to. Everything I know about how to treat a woman, how to raise my kids, and how to be a good person… I learned it all from you. 

I started my own journal the day I read yours. Cyn and Mary did, too. Just another lesson we learned along the way from you. Thank you for that. I hope my kids will read it some day, so they know without a doubt just how much I love them.

 I love you, pop. Forget everything else, but never forget that. 

-Love, Eddie

November 15, 2024

I don’t know how much more lucid time I have left, but I plan on using it to write this. You don’t realize how much you long for a sharp mind until you’ve lost it. I lost mine some years back, and I know I’ll never fully find it again. I miss it, deeply.

My son came to see me today. Eddie, the good boy he is. Man, I suppose. Not so much a boy, anymore. I can't thank him enough for giving me the gift of my journal back. I thought I lost it a long, long time ago. Reading it tonight hurt my heart, but also brought me so much joy. To see memories of my wonderful family documented throughout the years. 

My one big regret? I didn’t fill in the pages nearly as much as I wish I had. I was too busy living life. A great life, at that.

I miss Anna. My dear, sweet Anna. My heart longs to be reunited with her. I lost her 24 years ago to cancer, and I know I've never been the same since. How could I be, when I lost the other half of my heart? Boy, do I miss her. I hope to see her soon.

I think I’ll see her soon.

Until next time…

He puts down the pen and smiles. He closes the notebook and holds it tight to his chest. He closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. The heart monitor he’s hooked up to goes from a steady beat to a flatline.

He’s still smiling.