A Hidden Life

I had an estranged relationship with my great aunt. Even after I was born she never saw me or my family. When I first learned as a little kid that she existed I wondered why she never came around for Christmas or other holidays. I'd ask my mom why we never saw great-aunt Evelyn. When I was little she’d give answers like she wasn’t feeling well or she was always busy without ever explaining anything about her or what was going on in her life. Later on I learned she hadn’t spoken to the family since her husband died when my mom was a teenager. That’s how it was all my life. My parents never saw her. My grandma only spoke with her occasionally over the phone, but never in person anymore. I think her funeral was the first time I had actually seen her face. So I was very confused to learn that I had received an inheritance of $20,000 from her after she died that was to be given to me after I turned eighteen.

After the funeral my family and I went to her house. She only lived an hour away from us oddly enough. Just a couple towns over. It was a small house in a rural part of the county. It had a great view from the hill it was set on. Our job was to go through her belongings and see if there was anything we should keep. Anything that was trash just got thrown into a big pile outside to burn. I didn’t like the idea of that, but then again what would we do with the mountains of old magazines and newspapers she had been hoarding throughout her house? Once all the trash was gone I got to work clearing out her bedroom. I cleaned out her dressers, her closet, even under her bed. And that's where I found it. Sitting in a shoe box was a little black book and nothing else.

I didn’t read it at first. I also didn’t tell my parents that I found it. For some reason I was afraid my mom would just take it and not let me see what was inside. I wanted to find out for myself I guess. I hid the book in the jacket I was wearing and waited till we got back home to take it out. Once I was alone in my own room I opened it to the first page. It was a journal, no doubt. The pages smelled old and there were small tears around the edges. And quickly I realized that this wasn't Evelyn’s journal. At least not the first half. It was her husband’s. Whom had I never had the chance to meet. I started to read the journal and saw the first entry was written in September, 1946 and the rest of the following entries would often be months if not years apart. In it her husband, who I learned was named Eddy, described coming home from the war and feeling out of place. From the journal I learned that he had no family and his friends had all died from stupid shit they did while occupying Germany after the war in Europe was over. Drunk driving. Friendly fire. Brawls that went too far. He said he felt cursed.

Only a few entries were made in ‘47 and ‘48, but in 1949 there was a detailed entry about how he met my great aunt. From his description she sounded beautiful. Chestnut brown hair, big green eyes, a smile that could make people stop in traffic, and a no bullshit type of attitude. The journal then went over everything; their marriage, buying their house together, movies they saw, when my grandma had my mom and uncle, and then when he contracted cancer.

From August 1961 to February 1962 Eddy wrote about how Evelyn never left his side as his health got worse and worse. They also talked about her finding someone else after it became certain the cancer was terminal. He kept telling her she didn't deserve to be alone and that she should share the love she showed him. Especially since they never had children because Eddy wasn't able to give her any. Eddy died in February of 1962 and Evelyn took up the journal and filled out the rest herself. Her entries tell a dark and lonely tale about how much she missed her husband and how she had grown a spiteful outlook towards the world.

Before she met Eddy she too felt lonely and out of place. She hated the idea of becoming a housewife and being like her sister and all the other girls she grew up with who married young before the war. She was her own woman despite living in a man dominated world and would not take any shit from anyone. It made it hard for her to find someone to settle down with as no man could handle the fire that burned inside her. That is until she met Eddy.

While Eddy's entries were brief and to the point, Evelyn's were detailed and full of imagery. She would talk about the dates they had and the things they ate together for breakfast and dinner. She liked that Eddy was a man of few words, but loved the sensitive soul that was buried inside. Every anniversary he’d give her a new thoughtful gift whether it was a book from one of her favorite authors or mementos from early on in their relationship. When she gets to the part about dealing with Eddy's cancer it was like I was reading about someone who's insides were being torn out piece by piece. From what I gathered she wasn't one to cry about most things and always put on a strong outer shell, but Eddy's sickness and eventual death seemed to break her.

Toward the end of the journal things got pretty dark. She explained how much she hated how callus and irresponsible people had become around her, at least to her perspective. Movies felt meaningless to her. Food didn’t taste the same. Everyone’s lives became too complicated. And eventually she just stopped going outside anymore. As she got into her senior years she hired a food delivery service to send her meals so she didn’t have to leave her house. One entry in particular stood out to me though. It was about when my mom, her niece, had me.

The entry explained a lot of her regrets in life. How she she decided to hide from the world rather than confront it. She wanted to give me something to help me live a life she was too afraid and too jaded to live. She expressed how she was afraid for me and the world knew I would grow up in. So much so that she thought just seeing me would be too painful. Almost as painful as watching Eddy die. She didn’t look at things how they were. She just saw what they might become and that crippled her. But even so, she decided to give me an inheritance of $20,000, which was from some kind of life insurance policy, to help me live a better life than she did.

I think I read the entire journal over a few nights when I’d get home from school. It had an effect on me that I carried with me throughout the rest of high school and into college. I know I didn’t want to be a recluse like her, but as I grew up I began to understand her perspective more and more. But, instead of shutting myself off from the world, it made me decide to take greater care in my actions and who I let into my life. It didn’t matter if people became worse as time went on because I wasn’t going to let the actions of others influence my own life to such a degree it did to great-aunt Evelyn. It hurts to know that someone who at once was so full of life could be rendered hollow by a particular set of events and just reside themselves to living as a ghost before they eventually died. I think she was hoping I would find her journal and read it after her death.

At some point I showed my mom and my grandma the journal and it broke their hearts finding out she had suffered in silence for so many years. In the end my grandma said I should keep the journal and to read it when life felt like too much to take. After I turned 18 and finally received the inheritance, I used it for college tuition and then later, when I had a good paying job, I decided to buy her house. It sat empty and on the market for years due to it's remote location. I was happy to move in and bring life back to that place. Also, it had a great view on the hill it sat on.