Letters from a Dying Rachel Hudson: Chapter 2

November 1st 2024

Acceptance: an agreeing either expressly or by conduct to the act or offer of another so that a contract is concluded and the parties become legally bound.

He wakes up to a pair of chocolate brown eyes staring at him.

"Daddy?" Ellie whispers.

Without warning Finn grabs his daughter off of his lap and swings her up over his head, slinging her over his back. She giggles and pounds on his back.

"Down, daddy, down," Ellie giggles.

Finn smiles and lowers his daughter back onto his bed, hugging her close to his body. He looks into her eyes and can't help but smile.

Being a single father raising a three-year-old was the second hardest thing he's done. The first was losing Rachel. His eyes glance over to the calendar hanging by the bathroom door and he lets out a soft sigh. He looks past all the written events, doctors' appointments and preschool functions, and focuses his gaze on today's date. He absentmindedly runs his free hand through his hair and sinks back into the pillows.

"Why you sad daddy?" Ellie asks him with a pout.

He lets out a soft smile as he looks at Ellie. She's a carbon copy of Rachel. From her wavy brown hair all the way down to her bright chocolate eyes. Even her facial expressions match Rachel's to a tee.

He lifts himself out of bed and picks Ellie up by her arms.

"I'm not sad, baby girl," he responds.

At that Ellie crosses her arms over her chest and looks at Finn with a stern glance.

"You sad, daddy." She says.

"Maybe daddy's a little sad," he says as he strokes her hair.

He sits her on the countertop as he pulls the cereal out of the pantry, keeping one eye on Ellie to make sure she doesn't fall.

"Which bowl, baby?" he asks as he hold up two bowls, both decorated with different Disney characters.

Ellie strokes her hand on her chin and scrunches her forehead in concentration. She lifts her hand and points to the bowl in his left hand, the one containing Belle, her favorite princess. Finn nods and pours her cereal as she watches.

"What are we doing today, daddy?" Ellie question between bites of cheerios.

"I was thinking we could go visit mommy," Finn says slowly, watching Ellie's facial expressions.

She blinks a few times before looking up at Finn. "You mean talk to her?" Ellie questions.

Finn nods, "You can tell her about preschool and how you love to sing, baby," Finn encourages.

She loves talking to Rachel. Telling Ellie that her mom wouldn't be coming home again was heartbreaking. She didn't quite understand what was happening at the time, but days later when she kept asking for her mom she put two-and-two together.

Getting to a point in his life where he was truly happy took time. It took time to heal, time put put the pieces back together. He managed, slowly and surely with the help of his and Rachel's family.

The first couple months were the hardest. He went through the angry stage first. He remembers the day Kurt was bringing Ellie home and walked into his apartment to find glass plates shattered on the floor. Kurt kept Ellie that night.

He finally accepted it when he scared Ellie. He was in the bathroom washing his face when he spotted a bottle of Rachel's favorite perfume sitting on the counter. He failed to see Ellie in his doorway and picked the bottle up and pounded it against the door frame. He scared Ellie so bad that she wouldn't let him touch her the whole night. He felt like such an ass.

Ellie was his saving grace. The perfect mixture of him and Rachel. She kept him grounded, kept him living. In a way it was like Rachel left a part of herself with him.

He feels a tug at his hand and looks down to see his daughter wearing her shoes on the wrong feet.

"I'm ready daddy," she exclaims.

Finn shakes his head, smiling, and sets Ellie down on the floor so he can fix her shoes. He grabs a brush off the counter and carefully runs it through her hair, careful not to tug too hard on the knots. Kurt taught him how to untangle her hair without hurting her. He helped him a lot when it came to raising a girl.

When her hair is brushed out and shoes are on the right feet he picks her up and walks out the door of their apartment, double checking to make sure he locked it.


They're the only people there when they arrive. It's a beautiful day, not too cold. The sun is shining and he can hear the wind whistling as it dances through the tree braches. He takes Ellie's hand and guides her along a dirt path he knows like the back of his hand. The trail leads them to Rachel's tombstone. He uses his free hand to run his fingers across the engraving.

Rachel Hudson

1994-2023

Mother, wife, daughter, friend

"Do you want to go first, baby?" Finn asks his daughter.

Ellie nods nods and places a small pink flower she picked out to the side of the tombstone. "Hi mommy. I'm three years old now, daddy says I a big girl. Daddy showed me videos of you when you sing. You have a very pretty voice. I want to sing too, mommy. I like it a lot. I want to be like you, mommy. Daddy says I am. He says I have your actitude."

"Attitude, baby," Finn interrupts with a smile.

Ellie smiles and continues, "Me and daddy have lots of fun. We like to watch movies. My favorite is Belle. Daddy says I look like her. He says I look like you. You are very pretty, mommy. I love you and I miss you."

Ellie nods as if she agrees with what she said and turns to him, "Your turn, daddy."

Finn takes a shaky breath and begins," I never stop thinking about you, Rach. I couldn't ever forget about you. I hope you're doing well, wherever you are. Ellie and I, we're living. I stopped living after you left, Rach. It scared my family, scared Ellie. I promised you I'd never stop living. I miss you. We all miss you. Ellie started preschool this year and loves it. She's gotten so big, and everyday she acts more and more like you. She's dramatic and caring and musical. You'd be so proud of her. I've started showing her videos of us singing in high school. She loves them. Just yesterday I caught her singing 'Don't Rain on my Parade' to herself. I finally feel like I'm making a difference in kids' lives, Rach. I'm the school's band director now. The kids really look up to me. I finally feel like I'm making something of myself. If you were here, you'd be on Broadway; I know it."

He has to stop to control his tears before he begins again. "I miss you so much, babe. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a good dad to Ellie. You were an amazing mom and it's hard filling in your role, but I'm trying. I'm trying really hard. I love you so much, Rach. I'll always love you. I'm forever yours, love."


They stay there for an hour or so, lying on a picnic blanket and watching the clouds. People come and go but they sit there. He watches people of all ages walking down the same path. He watches the place flowers on graves. He always wonders what stories these people hold. He notices people walking by giving him sympathetic looks. He hates that. It makes him feel like they don't believe he's a good enough dad to his daughter.

Finn looks over his shoulder and notices that Ellie's asleep, so he packs up their things and wraps his arm under her body. She stirs and snuggles into his shoulder.

"Say bye to mommy, baby," Finn whispers.

"Bye momma, love you," Ellie responds tiredly.


He's sitting in the living room after just have putting Ellie down for her nap. He's trying to sort out sheet music when he hears the doorbell ring. He lays the music in neat piles and gets up slowly to open the door. He turns the handle and opens the door, revealing a confused looking mailman. He hands Finn a pink box decorated in gold stars. Finn takes it and quickly shuts the door, resting against it for a second. He looks down at the box and his heart stops. Written on top of the box in neat, curvy handwriting is: Letters from a Dying Rachel Hudson.


He's been staring at the box for the past ten minutes. It looks like a shoebox, only it's made of plastic. It's a light shade of pink with gold stars painted on the outside. He slowly reaches his hand out to the box, running his fingers along the words. He unclasps the lid and his heart speeds up. In the box there are dozens pink envelopes, addressed to a variety of different people. A gold sheet of paper catches his attention and he pulls it out, scanning it with his eyes.

Finn,

If you're reading this, then I'm dead. Sorry that was a really blunt way of putting it, but it's the truth. I had this great idea, Finn, when I first found out I was sick. I wanted to write a letter to everyone important to me before I die. I'm sorry for leaving you. I would tell you more, but if you look inside the box you'll see a letter addressed to you. Do me a favor, Finn, and deliver all of these letters for me. It would make me really happy. Oh, and Finn, don't give Ellie's to her until she turns thirteen.

Love always,

Rachel Hudson


Author's note: and so it begins