Annalise

Local Broadway Star Rachel Hudson-Berry to be honored at Playhouse Square's State Theatre On Saturday

Article Published August 8th, 2019

Lima, Ohio native and Broadway star Rachel Hudson-Berry is set to be honored Saturday evening at the State Theatre in Cleveland. Hudson-Berry, best known for her role as Fanny Brice in the revival of Funny Girl and Patsy Cline in I Fall To Pieces, passed away on June 18th after her battle with cervical cancer.

Hudson-Berry was born on December 18th, 1981 to former Broadway producers, fathers LeRoy and Hiram Berry via surrogate, former Carmel High Vocal Adrenaline Coach Shelby Corcoran. Hudson-Berry began performing as an infant, taking up both ballet and vocal lessons, and performing in various talent competitions across the Western Ohio region. Hudson-Berry was a member of William McKinley High School's glee club — the New Directions — from 1995 to 1999. She also had starring roles in two of the school's productions: Janet in The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Maria in West Side Story. In her years as a member of the New Directions, the group won countless of sectionals and regionals competitions and won the National Show Choir Competition once.

Hudson-Berry relocated to New York shortly after graduating from WMHS. She attended the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, more commonly referred to as NYADA. There, she majored in musical theatre, and graduated manga cum laude in 2003. She landed the role of Fanny Brice in the revival of Funny Girl in 2001, one that her idol Barbra Streisand made famous decades earlier. Hudson-Berry went on to star as Sherrie Christian in Rock of Ages from 2005 to 2010. "My (husband) is a huge classic rock fan, so really, I did the show to impress him," Hudson-Berry disclosed to The Plain Dealer back in 2009. "It's such a fun show and I gained a lot of respect for a music genre that I was never really a huge fan of." In 2013, after taking some time off to spend with her family, she was approached by friend and director Artie Abrams to star in a new production that he was working on titled "I Fall To Pieces", which tells the story of best friends and music icons Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn. The show went on to receive numerous Tony Awards, and is regarded as one of the best new Broadway productions in the last ten years. The role of Patsy Cline was the last that Hudson-Berry would play, before being diagnosed with cervical cancer.

In her 18 year career on Broadway, Hudson-Berry won a total of 8 Tony Awards and got the chance to tour all over the world, making sure that the State Theatre was always on her list. "It just feels good to go home sometimes. I love Broadway, but being able to perform for the amazing people of Ohio was something that I always looked forward to," she revealed to us back in 2017. When asked if she would miss performing once her treatment got underway, she said, "I am. I am going to miss it more than you will ever know. Performing is my passion and it is the only thing that I have ever been good at. My glee club director, Mr. Will Schuester, once told me that being a part of something special is what makes you special and I have carried those words with me since my days at NYADA. I knew that I was part of something special back then and I am still part of something special now."

Hudson-Berry is survived by her husband, Army veteran Finn Hudson, also a native of Lima, OH. The two wed in 2004 and were high school sweethearts. Together they have one daughter, Annalise Caroline Hudson. Other survivors include Broadway costume designer and former Tony winner Kurt Hummel (brother-in-law via Hudson), his husband and former Broadway actor Blaine Anderson (Jersey Boys, Million Dollar Quartet), father-in-law and local business owner Burt Hummel, mother-in-law Carole Hummel, fathers LeRoy and Hiram Berry, biological mother Shelby Corcoran, younger sister Beth Corcoran, and honorary brother Sam Evans. The ceremony will take place on Saturday, August 10th, 2019 at 4PM EST. The State Theatre will be closed to the public that evening — only friends and family members are among those that will be in attendance. The show can be live-streamed on our mobile app as well as on our Facebook page. The marquee lights across the Theatre District will dim immediately following the show and will turn back on during the 8AM hour on Sunday. Terminal Tower will also be illuminated in gold and teal, as a symbol of cervical cancer as well as to honor the gold star that Hudson-Berry was infamous for adoring on her dressing room doors. Coverage will begin on channel WOIO 19 and WJW Channel 8 Saturday evening at 3PM EST.

Last night was the first night in seven weeks that I was able to sleep for more than four consecutive hours. I don't know what it was that made me feel so comfortable here. A huge part of it, I think, was knowing that my family was just down the hall from me as I slept. I looked up to these men so much since I was a little girl and I still do, to this day. Knowing that they were only a few rooms away brought me a sense of serenity and comfort — almost as if nothing could hurt me.

But damnit, did I miss my mom.

I'm the first one awake in the house this morning. After taking a few deep breaths before getting out of bed, I manage to tiptoe downstairs and rummage through the cabinets to find any sort of regular K-Cups for their Keurig: all my uncles had on display was the flavored stuff. After a few minutes, I give up, and detest, while popping a toasted coconut flavor into the machine. "Hopefully this doesn't taste like sunscreen," I say quietly to myself, as I remove my hair from it's bun and straighten it as neatly as I can. Thinking back, it has been a long time since I've taken time out of my day to enjoy a cup of coffee this early. My mom and I had a tradition that started when I was in eighth grade of having our coffee together on Saturday mornings. We would listen to an old record — mostly Frank Sinatra, Carole King, or Joni Mitchell — and talk about what was weighing heavy on our minds. Our 2 bedroom loft in New York was right in the middle of the city, so instead of having a deck or a patio to sit on, we would retreat to the fire escape. My mom would tell me very little about how work was going — I did most of the talking back then — but I don't think she minded. She loved hearing about my friends, my dance classes, and how much I loved school. While she introduced me to those records, I would introduce her to things I had on my iPod: the Jonas Brothers, Miley Cyrus, Bruno Mars... that was about as far as I dove into pop music. I mostly played her country songs that I heard on the radio; anything from classic to modern. She didn't like those mornings as much. She called it "silly, crying, cowboy songs" but once she took the role of Patsy Cline, I think she developed a deeper understanding of the music than she ever had, just like Rock of Ages. Everyone knew she took the role of Sherrie for my dad, but I think she took the role of Patsy for me.

I loved those mornings with my mom: talking out on our fire escape, listening to records or my iPod, and taking in the city coming to life around us. It seems so trivial, but, the fact that the sun had risen this morning made me know that she was still right here, keeping our tradition alive. It was these little moments where I allowed myself to miss her even more than any other time. As I look out onto the horizon of the serene Ohio town, I take in the pinks and oranges dancing around in the sky, reminding me that today is going to be beautiful. I'm truly blessed to have this opportunity to see the sun rise this morning. Today wasn't going to be easy, but I knew that when I boarded the plane from New York to Ohio.

"Good morning, sunshine," I hear someone say, as they make their way out onto the front porch, the creaking screen door closing softly behind him. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

"Morning, uncle Sammy," I joke, wrapping the throw blanket tighter around my frame. "It's early. What are you doing up?"

"I asked you first," he smiles, setting his mug of hazelnut coffee down on the arm of the porch swing. I scoot over a bit, attempting to make room so that he can sit down next to me.

I stick my tongue out in reply as he laughs it off. "I was thinking about mom."

"Yeah," he says, pushing the bangs of his mop of sandy blonde hair away from his eyes. "I was thinking about her too. Maybe she thought we needed to both talk to each other or something. I'm never up this early on a Saturday."

"I normally am," I sigh. "Saturday's were the mornings she and I would spend together. She would still be so wound up from her show Friday evening that it was hard for her to sit still once Saturday morning came about. It was infectious."

"Oh, I remember," he smiles. "When I first lived with your mom — back in that loft in Bushwick — she'd wake up early and start trying to clean the house. She'd wake all of us up. It finally got to the point that when Friday evening rolled around, we would have to wear ear plugs to sleep," he chuckles. "I miss that."

I focus my attention back out onto the horizon. "Why her, Sam? Why did he have to take her?"

Sam shrugs his shoulders and sighs a bit; I barely notice as he places his hand onto mine for comfort. "I don't know the answer to that question, Anna. And try as we might, I don't think any of us ever will."

"I'm sick of talking about it, ya know? Everyone always asks the same questions. I know that she was in pain for so long. It's comforting to know that she is in a place where she isn't in pain any longer but this just sucks." I wanted so badly to go back to the way things were before the cancer. I wanted to go back to being a family again. "My therapist told me to think of her in a place where nothing can hurt her anymore, so I keep thinking of her in this little garden in Heaven with a stage and a microphone so that she can sing her heart out whenever she wants to." I glance down at the article once more. I'm afraid that if I look up at Sam, he's going to be crying, and I'm trying my hardest not to break down in front of him. I focus my attention instead to the front page of the article. They used the same picture for her obituary in our local paper in New Jersey. It was the professional headshot that she had taken back in early 2015 — her long, raven black hair is done in a mess of curls that falls over her right shoulder, her infamous white smile is gleaming, and a hint of her favorite shade of burgundy lipstick is adorned, making her sun-kissed skin glow. I smile every time I see this photograph. She was so proud the day that she took these headshots. The world on Broadway for her was still endless, and she thought that she would be singing Patsy Cline songs for the next five years when the show was renewed into syndication. And then, the stupid fucking cancer came and stole it all. It stole her beautiful curls, it stole her glistening smile, and it stole the glow right out of her face. "I'm just so... angry," I exhale heavily, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent tears from falling. "I'm so angry at God... I'm so angry at the doctors... I'm so angry at myself..."

"Why are you angry at yourself?" he asks, a bit puzzled. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I made her life so hard when she was going through everything with her cancer," I sigh. "She was so sick and I was so resilient and stubborn... I didn't want her to die. I should have spent more time with her than I did. I put all of this stress on her. She didn't deserve that from me, Sam. She deserved a daughter that went to her chemo appointments with her. She deserved a daughter that would just have told her that everything was going to be okay. But what was I doing instead?"

"You were being a teenager," he tells me. "Which is all anyone ever wanted you to be. You had to grow up fast, Anna. You moved out on your own faster than the ink could dry on your college acceptance letters. You moved back in with your dad and have been working your ass off..."

"Don't even get me started on my dad," I tell him. "He's about as lost as I am. I've been so self absorbed that I haven't taken a step back to even consider his feelings. I've been lashing out on him more. I've been nagging him about his drinking. I've been so harsh to him."

"You haven't been selfish," he reminds me. "Not with your mom, not with your dad, not even with yourself. You are a smart, beautiful, amazing young woman who is just trying to find her place in this world. You are just trying to get through each day as best you can. You are just trying to live."

"I don't want to live like this anymore," I tell him. "I don't like living here without her or without my dad. We weren't perfect but we were a family. I should have spent more time with both of them. We should have had more dinners and, like family game nights. We should have said I love you more. And now it's too late."

"It might be too late with your mom, but it's not too late with your dad."

"What if it is?"

"I promise you," he tells me, clearing his throat. "I promise you that it is not too late to mend things with your dad."

"But he's going to be here and I'm going to be there... I've never been that far away from him before. I always wanted to be — he was so controlling and strict. I know though now that he was only looking out for me. What am I going to do without him so close to me?"

"You can always come here. He can always go there. Your dad has wanted to escape the reality of New York and New Jersey ever since your mom's condition worsened. He didn't because of you. But now is his chance. I think he could do really good things here. All he ever wanted to do was lead people — to teach. And now he has the chance to. There are so many people that love him and will protect him here. People that want to make things right with him. He cut all of us off for so long once we all went our separate ways..."

"Yeah, but I'm not one of those people that are going to be protecting him."

"You shouldn't have to be," Sam says, shaking his head. "I had to grow up fast, too. I had to take care of my parents when I was much younger than you were. I wished that someone would have just taken care of them for me and let me be a teenager. You need to have this chance, Anna. You're never going to get another one. You're in the city like you've always wanted to be. You're working on Broadway —,"

"Off Broadway," I remind him.

"Whatever. You're performing just like I knew you always would. You are trying so hard just to be you after everything that happened this past year."

"I know," I reply, letting out a soft smile. I hear my voice crack and I try to prevent it as much as I can.

"So, you and your uncle were up awful late last night," he says, taking a sip of his coffee and changing the subject immediately, upon hearing the small crack in my voice.

"Yeah," I laugh, as I reminisce on the time spent with him last night. He and I were up until nearly 2 in the morning, rehearsing the song that we were going to sing. Kurt had picked such a hard song to perform. I knew that Jesse was going to have it out for me if I came in Monday afternoon with a strained voice. We must have changed the key fifteen times. He was so patient with me as I studied each note and each word on the sheet music that now lays in my suitcase — a token of what today was going to be and a reminder of what last night was. It was the perfect way to honor my mom. I knew that she was going to be looking down on us tonight as we honored her the only way that we knew how.

"Of course," he says, his voice trailing a bit. "I just wished you were going to be singing with me..."

"You didn't ask me to!" I exclaim, holding in a bit of laughter. "I so would have, you know."

"I know," Sam smiles. "I'm just giving you a hard time. What time did y'all finally fall asleep last night? I was finishing up Sports Center and I still saw the light on in the basement."

"We didn't finish until this morning," I tell him. "We had to make sure everything was perfect. I know uncle Blaine is going to be FaceTiming with the decorator guy this morning and uncle Kurt turned the itinerary in last night. We just wanted it to be perfect for her."

"It will be," he smiles. "Did you pick out an outfit yet? Kurt's been hounding me about mine... and my hair."

"No," I reply. "I brought a few things from New York but uncle Kurt said that they weren't good enough and he was going to call his contacts and find me the perfect dress or he was going to make me the perfect dress... I don't know why everyone is being so fussy about it all."

"They just want you to feel good about yourself getting up there on stage."

"Have you seen the outfits for the show yet?" I laugh, thinking back to the ideas that Jesse St. James had given to Danny and myself for costume choices. I wouldn't be caught dead in anything like what he wanted. "Speaking of which... I told him about the thing."

"You told who about the what?"

I look around the porch and then back at my godfather. "I told Kurt about the show last night," I reply. "He told me some secrets and we were having this depressing conversation and I told him about the show."

"Thank God," Sam replies. "Now I'm not the only one carrying your secret around. Does your dad still not know?"

"Yeah, and I don't think I'm going to tell him until after all of this hoopla is over. He needs a chance to get settled down here. I don't need him worrying about me."

"He's going to worry no matter what," Sam laughs. "He's always been the worrier of your parents. You know that."

"I do," I say, laughing it off. "I just don't want him to be sad or anything. He always used to sit front row for my mom's shows and I'm just afraid him knowing I'll be playing lead in something like this would bring all of these emotions back."

"You don't think he's ready to handle it?"

"No."

"It's going to be really hard keeping it from him, especially if he moves in here. I don't want to be the one to tell him."

"I will tell him," I promise. "Eventually, I will tell him. There's like six months to go until the show. He will know before opening night."

"Are you nervous?"

I shake my head. "A little bit. My mom was... she was amazing up there on stage. She lit up everything like a firework. She never got tired. She did over a hundred shows in a few month's time. She never missed a step or was never off key... hell, she played Fanny when she was pregnant with me! She was unstoppable. I want to be just like that. Jesse told me the other day that if I put my mind to this role, I can be better than my mom ever was. I think it's a little vindictive of him... and I don't want it to go to my head. My mom was one in a million, but I know that I do need to kick it up a notch once I go back home to New York."

"I think you could be better than your mom. She was great. She was really, really great. But you have this thing about you... I think you get it from your dad. Your mom was good and she knew she was good. She made sure everyone knew that she was going to make it big one day. You — you are good... but you don't boast about your talent. You were just born with it. And thank God you didn't get cursed with your dad's dancing skills."

"He's pretty bad, huh?" I laugh.

"Just a little," Sam jokes. "He's my best friend. I'm allowed to say things like that."

"And I'm his daughter, and I'm allowed to agree with you," I chuckle.

"You think your dad is going to like it here? At McKinley, I mean. Do you think he's going to do good?"

"Why are you asking me?" I shrug my shoulders. "I think he could be really good at it. I know you guys have to pick like lessons and stuff... any ideas?"

Sam shakes his head. "No ideas. I don't know what to do."

"When do classes start?"

"Right after Labor Day," Sam replies. "So around the same time you start college... wow I can't believe I just said that out loud. I can't believe you're starting college."

"Yeah, its a little scary," I reply. "Any ideas for the first lesson?"

"Well, we do auditions first. But everyone that auditions gets in anyway... unless you're tone deaf or something. Beyond that... was maybe thinking of songs that meant something to them growing up?"

I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee. It's cold by this point. I had gotten so wrapped up in talking that I forgot about it, actually. "Why don't you do songs from the year they were born? It might be fun to get to know what songs were popular back then and challenge them. Because let's face it, you can't do country music every week."

"Would be awesome if we could," Sam mumbles. "That's a great idea though. I think that could work. Thanks."

"You're welcome," I smile. "I remember when my dad helped Mr. Schuester all those years ago... he would rack his brain and just kind of go with it. It was really cool to see. I know he's missed it ever since then. He's got a knack for teaching. Plus, I'm a phone call away if you need any non-country ideas."

"Thank you," he tells me. "I kinda wish you were moving down here with him, ya know?"

"If life was different and I was born a year later I would be," I reply. "But New York is my life. That's where my job is. And who knows? Maybe I won't end up liking being on stage and I'll end up coming back here eventually."

"You won't," Sam smiles. "You're going to love being on stage too much."

"I know," I say. "But it's fun to think about what could have been."

"It definitely is," he says.

"I'm always going to miss her, Sam," I tell him, sounding like a broken record by going back to talking about my mom. I couldn't help it. "There is not a day that goes by that I won't think about her or wonder what she is doing up there all alone. I am so thankful for the time that I got to spend with her. She was my best friend," I tell him. And that does it. I can taste the first tear as it falls freely from my eye. I'm not surprised that this is happening by any means. Sam has focused his attention to two little birds and a squirrel in the front yard. He lets a tear fall, but I don't acknowledge it. "My mom was my dad's best friend too. And I know that he is going to have a harder time getting over this than I am. I just don't want him to be sad anymore. He doesn't deserve to be sad anymore," I say through my sobs. "He's hurting so bad and I don't want him to anymore."

"I love you, Annalise Caroline... more than anything in this world. We have a handle on your dad. The three of us — five if you count his parents and seven if you count your mom's, not to mention Shelby and Beth so that's nine... and Mr. Schuester... we have him under control. I promise you. God has a purpose in everything that he does and I've been thinking about that as we have been sitting together this morning. I know that you may not know the answer as to why she was taken from us so soon. But maybe one day, you will. And I don't care what time of day or night it is, you call me first and I will always be there to listen. I don't care if you call me and cry for two hours. I am here for you, and you know that. We love you and we support you."

"Thank you," I mouth to him, as I lean over the cold porch swing to give him a hug. "I love you, too."

"I don't know what to talk about now," he laughs, taking a sip from his coffee mug. He sets it down and wipes the tears that have fallen down his face. "Do you want to go inside? It sounds like someone is up and I'm sure they're getting ready to make breakfast. Your Nana and Papa are going to be over here soon."

"Not yet," I say, shaking my head. "I just want to sit here with you for a little while longer, if that's okay?"

"That's more than okay," he smiles.

"So, tell me again about your new job. Do you know any of the kids you're going to be teaching? I mean they have to audition, I know. But is it like sports? Do you have to scout them out? You have some pretty big shoes to fill."

"That I do," he laughs.

"Are you scared? Nervous? All of the above?" I ask again.

"Absofrigginglutely," he laughs.

"Don't be," I remind him. "God has a purpose in everything that he does."

Finn

I dreamt about Rachel again last night.

Only this time, it didn't feel like I was awaking from an endless nightmare. I think sometime between family dinner and going over a list of songs that I had picked to sing for her in my head, something clicked. Back in New Jersey, I was still holding out hope that she may come back, bursting through the front door and announcing her return, as if she was coming home from one of her long Broadway tours. Back home in Ohio though, everything just felt so real.

I had been up for a few hours now, letting my mind wander endlessly. I knew today was going to be a beautiful day, but fuck it was going to be tough to get through. Anna and Kurt had spent most of last night finalizing all of the details for this evening and putting together decor plans... or maybe that was Blaine? I don't know. My head was pounding this morning, but I had gotten used to waking up with hangovers now. It was approaching 10am and I still needed to figure out which tie I was going to wear, which song I was going to sing, and what I was going to say to everyone about my dead wife.

As I begin the slow, zombie-like walk from the guest bedroom to the top of the staircase, I smell the hickory aroma of bacon wafting up from the kitchen and the laughs of those I loved as they gathered around the island. Annalise has a wide smile on her face — and not a sarcastic one either. It's genuine and it seems as though it's here to stay, even if only for a little while. Kurt and Blaine were doting each other as they stood behind the stove, drizzling cherry topping on Kurt's famous crepes. Sam was finishing up frying the bacon as it crackled in the pan in front of his face.

"Someone's finally up," I hear Annalise say, as she finishes pouring several glasses of orange juice in champagne flutes on the empty kitchen counter.

"Morning, Finn," Kurt says, as he grabs a coffee mug from the cabinet. "Two sugars, right?"

"Ye... yeah, thanks bro," I say, as I walk over to my daughter and give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Did you sleep okay last night, honey?"

"I did," she smiles. "You look well rested, too."

"That bed is so comfortable," I laugh. "It's like sleeping on a cloud."

"It's one of those memory foam things. We have them throughout the house."

"I may have to invest in one of those," I chuckle. Kurt places the coffee mug in front of me as I take a seat at the kitchen island next to my daughter. "Thank you," I tell him, allowing a yawn to escape my lips before taking a sip of the piping hot cup of coffee.

"You're welcome," he replies.

"Breakfast smells great," I tell them.

"It should be finished soon. Just waiting for the cheese to melt on the eggs and the peppers to soften in the fried potatoes."

"Anna made the eggs," Kurt smiles. "They smell really good. A little... too much cheese for my taste, but she'll learn." He wrinkles his nose. "She will have plenty of time to practice in that fancy New York apartment. Even though she's in college it doesn't mean she has to live on frozen dinners and Ramen noodles."

I forgot we were leaving Monday morning. It hit me instantly, like a ton of bricks. Instead of harping on it, I say, "her normal idea of cooking is making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," I laugh, joining in on their banter.

"Hey!" she exclaims. "I can hold my own in the kitchen, thank you very much. Plus my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches slap."

"Slap?" I ask.

"It means that they're really good," Sam replies.

"Who taught you how to talk like that?" Blaine asks.

"Literally everyone says slap now," she chuckles. "You'll have to learn all the new lingo."

"What's wrong with saying good?"

"Because good is boring," she replies.

"I don't think she likes being around us very much," Kurt replies. "We've been teasing her all morning."

"It's just new bait," Blaine laughs.

"And it's all out of love."

"Keep telling yourself that," she says, taking a sip of her orange juice and rubbing her eyes frantically as she removes her glasses. As we sit in silence for a few moments, I'm enjoying the atmosphere that I'm a part of. It reminds me of our early days, when everyone was in New York and Rachel and I had just gotten back together. Annalise was a little girl then, and I know that she doesn't remember much of it. To see her being teased by the guys back and forth warms my heart in the weirdest way — they used to do that with Rachel all of the time. It feels like something that was missing was finally being filled. I hated that Anna and I have missed out on so many mornings like this. I wanted to stay here, with her, more than anything in this world. However, I had a job to think about and Rachel and I had already taken out two loans to cover her tuition at NYU for the next four years. I could see though, these Saturday mornings becoming some sort of a ritual. Sure, it may have seemed for a moment like a re-run of a 90s family sitcom, but it was nice seeing everyone smiling and joking for a change. The thoughts that I was wrapped so tightly in were soon taken away by a knock at the front door.

"Come in! It's open!" Kurt exclaims, as he grabs a bag of powdered sugar from the cabinet.

"Is that like a normal thing here in Ohio?" Anna whispers.

"It's a small town," I shrug.

"Yeah, but dad it could be like someone coming to kill us and eat our breakfast..."

"At 10:11 in the morning?" I ask, raising my brow. "It's probably just..."

"Just who, dad? The breakfast killer?"

"Knock it off," I tell her, trying hard not to laugh. I don't know where she gets this humor from — I think it's Sam. Annalise rolls her eyes at me.

"Morning, everyone," I hear a familiar voice say, as she stands in the crossover from the living room to the kitchen. "We weren't sure what all you needed... we made biscuits and gravy."

"Mom!" I yell, as I stand up, nearly knocking my chair over in the midst. If I had been happy a few minutes ago, I was even more happy now. Even though I was 6"4 and nearly 40, running into my mom's arms for a hug was something I needed more than anything right now.

"Hi sweet boy," she tells me, as she lets go off my grip and kisses me on the cheek.

Kurt walks up to her and takes the bowl of sausage gravy from her hands, kissing the top of her hair. "You didn't have to do this, you know. You're our guest."

"It was no trouble, really," she says. "The milk was about to go bad anyway."

"Burt," I say, as my step-dad makes his way into the kitchen. I embrace him as well. "It's so good to see you, man."

"You too, son."

"Hi, Papa and Nana," Anna says, as she gets up from her seat to give them a hug. "I didn't think we'd be seeing you until this evening."

"Anna, I told you they'd be coming this morning," Sam says. Anna nudges him on the shoulder — I don't think she wanted to give away the excitement in her face and I'm glad she didn't want to ruin the surprise for me. I just wished I had a chance to brush my teeth first so they didn't smell the alcohol on my breath.

"Surprise," Kurt says, as he cocks his hip and holds a spatula out in front of him.

"Breakfast is ready," Blaine comments. "We have the dining room all set..."

"We can just eat in here," Burt replies. "You don't have to make anything fancy for us."

"I thought we'd try the whole eating as a family thing again," Blaine comments. I know he's disappointed by my performance last night during what was supposed to be some special Kumbaya moment. "Plus, I don't know about you but I can't stand and eat."

"That sounds lovely, Blaine," my mom says. "Thank you for thinking of us."

"Of course. We're just so happy to see you guys. I hope it's okay that they're joining us for breakfast, Finn."

"It's more than okay, dude," I smile. "Now, it really feels like home," I reply, as we begin to make our way into the kitchen. As we all take our seats and look around, there are so many mixed emotions going on. Annalise is joking with her grandfather, as he attempts to steal all of the bacon from her plate. Sam is reaching over everyone to grab the fried potatoes and sausage gravy. Kurt looks horrified — I think he's afraid we're going to drop something on his fancy tablecloth. Blaine looks exhausted. He had a late night last night, too. I don't think I saw the light in the bedroom ever go off and he was yelling about flowers early this morning. My mom looks like she is ready to break down at any moment. There's a seat open next to me, for what would have been Rachel's spot. I can only imagine what she is thinking — having to look down on all of us as we dine together for the first time in God knows how long. My mom notices my face and hers falls as well, as Anna grabs her shoulder for a hug.

"Mmm, Anna," Kurt says, as he takes a sip of his orange juice. He's the first to break the side bar conversations and commotion since we sat down at the table. "I have my guy, Maurice, coming by at 2. He does the works."

"The works?" I ask.

"For tonight," Kurt says. "I felt like you could use a haircut too, Finn. It's looking... more birds-nesty than usual," he replies. "You too, Sam."

"You're cutting your hair?" I ask my daughter. Her long hair reminded me so much of her mom. She wears it up too much. I couldn't imagine her going any shorter.

She shrugs her shoulders as she takes a bit of sausage gravy. "A change is always a good thing. The long hair makes me feel like a kid," she laughs. "You don't have to go through that trouble though, uncle Kurt. I'm perfectly okay with curling my hair for three hours only for them to fall in 15 minutes and trying to do my makeup for tonight."

"I won't allow any niece of mine to go through that," he says.

"How much is this going to cost?"

"It's a favor, Finn," Kurt says. "There's no cost."

"Let me give you something," I say. "You guys have put us up all weekend and fed us and those scallops you made last night are really expensive not to mention the cloud mattress and I drank most of your whiskey..."

"You wanna pay me back Finn?" Kurt says, not taking his eyes off of his plate. "You can pay me back by moving to Ohio and helping Sam with the glee club."

For a moment, I think he's joking. I don't say a word, and everyone else falls silent. The only noise to be heard is when Sam taps the side of his champagne flute full of orange juice as Kurt looks on mortified. "Oh, wait, are you serious? We're talking about that now?" Sam asks, lowering the fork.

"Talking about what?" I ask, a certain amount of stun in my voice. "What is going on here?"

"Finn, honey..." my mom starts, as she places the napkin she is holding in her lap.

"Wait... is this some sort of intervention?" I ask, as my mood turns sour. "Is that why you guys are here? For an intervention? What did I do wrong?" I'm full of hatred and rage in this moment. I'm so pissed. These people are supposed to be my family. "Did you know about this?" I ask, my question directed towards my daughter.

She nods her head softly. "I knew about it, yeah. When Sam booked our tickets, he bought you a one-way..."

"You're fucking kidding me, right?"

"Finn Christopher," my mom says.

"Don't," I exclaim. "None of you... not a single one... knows what I'm going through right now, okay?"

Everyone is silent again for a moment, until Burt looks up from his plate and says, "I do." He clears his throat and wipes the corner of his mouth. "When I lost Kurt's mom — I was as lost as you were, Finn. I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. And sure, I hit the bottle a little harder. I didn't shower. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, I wasn't taking care of my son. I didn't have anyone to pull me out of that funk that knew what they were going through. Kurt was so young... I had to seek advice from counselors, and my church pastor, and my alcohol sponsor..."

"I'm drinking more so all of a sudden I have to go to AA? Anna, what have you told them? After all I've done for you..."

"We're worried about you," my mom says.

"I don't want to lose you too, dad," Annalise says. "I know you're sad because I'm sad. We're all sad. But I can't take care of you," she tells me. "I would love to just not go to school and try to mend your heart and stuff but I can't, dad. I physically and emotionally cannot commit to that... and I shouldn't have to. You had your life with mom. And now you have to start the next chapter of your life without her... and without me. I have to go to college, dad. I am paying rent on an apartment that I don't even live in. It's not fair to me. I've loved living with you again... but I just can't..."

"So you guys thought that this would work?" I ask, clinching my teeth. "You guys thought that I would just agree to come back to Ohio and teach in that choir room where my dead wife and I fell in love? You thought that would help to heal my heart or some sappy shit like that? You guys don't know me, then. And you're not my family," I say, as I get up from the table and slam my chair in. I stomp up the stairs — a move made famous by my daughter — and shut the door of the guest room loud enough so that they can hear me.

I'm praying that they can't hear me cry as I sit at the foot of the bed. The walls are too thin in this house.

"He'll come around," I hear Kurt say, as I hear his footsteps make their way over to my mom's chair. He probably has his arm wrapped around her torso. I can see it now, almost as if I am still at the dining room table. "He will, I promise."

"I can't lose my boy, Kurt. I can't lose him like I lost Rachel."

"We won't," Blaine says sympathetically as he reaches his hand over the table to comfort her.

"He's not getting on that plane with me Monday morning," I hear Annalise say. "He needs this. And he needs you guys."

"Sorry for all of the tears," Kurt replies. "And I'm sorry for that. I know we said we'd do it tomorrow but..."

"It's not your fault," Burt says.

"Yes it is," I comment to myself, feeling like a child that was just sent up to their room for throwing a temper tantrum and listening to their parents talk about them behind their back.

"I just wanted to help him. This was my idea, after all," Kurt says.

"Won't be helping me. I don't know what's to going to help me," I comment again.

"You should have seen how much he drank last night... I'm always afraid he's going to go get in a car and drive off... or hallucinate and think that she's somewhere she's not."

"I would never do that," I say to myself. "And I don't drink that much."

"How much did he drink?"

"Almost a whole bottle of Jack," Anna replies. "He drinks almost every evening. He's drunk from the night before when I wake up."

"Why do you care so much anyway?" I say to myself.

"I want to move back to the city so bad... but I just can't. He needs someone to take care of him like my mom did. I get that he lost her but I lost her too. We all did. This needed to happen. He needs help. The drinking, the lashing out... he never used to be like that."

"We will take care of it, honey," Burt says. "I know what he's going through. Maybe he should move in with us for a little bit. I'll put him to work at the tire shop and he can teach at McKinley with Sam. Might help him to work with his hands again... to keep his mind busy. He always loved that."

"Fuck no I don't want to go to the tire shop. And I don't want to teach at McKinley. I want to go back home to New Jersey and deliver mail like I've done since I got home from the war."

"We just want to help him. He can stay here with us. You guys don't have the room."

"We'll make the room," Burt exclaims.

"Awful lot of talk about help but where were all of you when Rachel got sick? Where were all of you when I got home from Iraq and you were keeping my daughter a secret? Where were all of you when we needed help when she was alive? You guys all left. Each one. One by one you went home to Ohio."

"We weren't there when Rachel got sick," Blaine comments.

"Damn right you weren't," I say to myself.

"But we're here now and we want to help," he replies. "I know today was hard enough already and I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Thank God," I say.

"I'm sure everyone's food is cold," Kurt comments. "I'll go heat it all up in the microwave."

"I'm going to go up and talk to Finn," Burt says, very spur of the moment like. He grabs his plate as I'm sure, Kurt looks on, horrified. "I won't get anything on the carpet. I promise."

"I would really... ya know what? It's fine," he says, waving him off. "Hopefully it'll help him."

"He's always been really good with Finn," my mom states. "He knows what he's going through. Finn's dad and I weren't together when he died and..."

"I can take you to the bathroom to help you get the mascara off of your face," Annalise tells her. "Itll probably make you feel better."

"Thanks, honey but that's okay. Tell me about your job at school. I haven't seen you in a few weeks and I want to know all about the city."

"I'll go heat everything up," Kurt replies. "Blaine, Sam. Can you help me with the plates?"

"Sure thing," Sam says, as I hear the thud of Burt's work boots guide him up the stairs. It's too late to hide in a closet or escape out of a window.

I knew that I was trapped.

"Hey, Finn," I hear my step dad say, as he opens the door of the guest room. "Sorry for just barging in. I brought you up your breakfast."

"Thanks," I tell him. "But I'm too pissed to eat."

"May I?" he asks, as he sets the plate down on the nightstand and sits next to me on the bed. "We've had a lot of these talks, on beds like these," he starts. "We had this conversation when you said you were going to Fort Benning... we had a talk like this when you said you had gotten Rachel pregnant and that we were grandparents... we had a talk like this when you said you were going to move to New York... we had a talk like this when you guys came down and said that it would be the last time you'd come to Ohio for awhile..."

"We've been through a lot," I remind him. "You've been married to my mom since I was in high school."

"And I've never steered you wrong, have I?" he asks. "As the kids now say... I've been around for a minute," he chuckles, trying to lighten up the mood. "Son..."

"Don't," I tell him. "Please don't. I don't need a lecture. What you guys did to me this morning was wrong. What was going to happen once Monday morning came? Were you going to tie me down to a chair and prevent me from going home to New Jersey?"

"No," Burt chuckles, shaking his head. "You're a grown man, Finn. You can make your own choices. But the choices that you're making now... they're hurting those around you..."

"Yeah, well if you haven't noticed, my life has sucked lately."

"It doesn't have to," Burt says. "I was about... ten years younger than you when I lost Kurt's mom," he comments, crossing his right leg over his left. "And man, if that didn't fuck me up. Same way too... cancer."

"I know," I reply. "I've heard the story a million times."

"But you've never heard what it was like during the cancer... or after... when you lose someone, you lose a part of you too. You're never the same. No matter what anyone tells you. You just feel..."

"Empty?"

"Yeah," Burt chuckles lightly. "Empty is a good word for that. But you learn to move on. I know it's only been a few months, kid but Finn, you have a lot to think about. You have a chance to really restore your purpose in life. You have a reason to wake up every single morning — and it's that girl sitting downstairs, terrified to lose her other parent. I should not get a call at 2am on a Wednesday from her, terrified because she found you passed out in the backyard, not sure if you were breathing. You wanna know how scared I was? You remember when you found Annalise on the roof at that club in New York? That's about how scared we were, times a thousand. She doesn't need that in her life right now, especially not after losing her mom. I know that I'm not your father. And we have done this song and dance for over twenty years now. I care about you, Finn. And I care about that girl downstairs and I cared about Rachel so much. She was the daughter I never had. I lost her, too. When I lost Kurt's mom... I didn't know how to put the bottle down. I failed for a little while as a parent. Kurt was... he was coming out of his shell and starting to become who he is now. And he needed me. And I wasn't there for him."

"So I should come down to Ohio to be there for Anna?"

"You should come down to Ohio to let her live her life," he says. "When Kurt moved to New York for the first time with Rachel... I didn't want him to go. But I was so proud of him. You and Rachel have raised someone so special... she needs a chance to be herself. Just like I gave to Kurt and just like your mom gave to you. You've been messed up for a while. The combat shit, finding out you had a daughter... moving to New York on a whim... you've been lost since you graduated high school, kid. Being with Rachel helped it, sure. But now she's not here. You were so happy when you came home from war and we were so proud of you. It's time to come home now. You would have done the same thing to Anna if you were living here. She would have gone to New York no matter if you lived in Ohio, New Jersey, or Timbuktu. When I married your mom, I got a chance to live my life again. I never knew what I was missing. And then when you and Kurt left, sure the house was quiet, but we got a chance to live our life with each other. I'm sorry that you will never get that with Rachel. But maybe now you'll have a chance to live your life the way you want to. Go to a couple of AA meetings. Go see a grief counselor. Come take over the tire shop. Go teach at McKinley. You have so much goodness in your heart, Finn. It's too much goodness to be trapped delivering mail in New Jersey."

"But Anna..."

"Annalise will be fine," Burt replies. "You have raised her. She's an adult now. Now life part two begins. And you need to start thinking about Finn. What do you want to do right now? Do you want to get help or do you just want to sit around that house in Jersey and let life pass you by? I know that we weren't up there a lot when Rachel got sick and I'm sorry for that. We have missed having you around. And I think it's what's best for you. But that's just my opinion," he says to me. "And you can take my advice or leave it. But you and I have always been straight with one another. You're my son... and you are a good person, Finn. I don't want anything to happen to you. I love you. And I can't take seeing your mom or any of those people down there in pain anymore."

"I can't make a decision right now," I tell him. And that was the truth. "I just want to... I want to get through today."

"We all do," Burt says. "Sorry for the chat... but I just felt like I had to say something. Why don't you come downstairs and finish eating breakfast so this Maurice guy can cut your hair, okay? I know that this... tonight... it doesn't mean a whole lot. We've done the fancy funeral and stuff. But this... this is something Rachel would have wanted. This was something that she would have loved. Let's make today about her, okay? Tomorrow, we focus on you. I'm not telling you you need to forget her... but it's time to let your heart start to heal, okay?"

"Alright," I tell him, as he pats me on the leg and gets up off of the bed. As he makes his way to the door, I simply say, "thank you," with tears appearing at the corner of my eyes.

"You're welcome," he tells me. "You never stop being a parent... ever. And it doesn't get any easier. But watching your children become versions — the best versions — of yourself makes it all worth it. I'll see you downstairs."

"Hey, Burt," I tell him, as he stands in the middle of the doorway. "Did you ever really get over Kurt's mom?"

He shakes his head. "I did a little bit. I opened up my heart to love again... we're all different and you may or may not do that one day. She was my first love, much like Rachel was yours. And that love never goes away, for as long as you live."