“My heroes were Dylan, John Lennon and Picasso, because they each moved their particular medium forward, and when they got to the point where they were comfortable, they always moved on.”

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A week or so ago I felt some random urge to talk about John Hughes, director and writer of some of my most beloved movies – movies that shaped my childhood and teen years. My Mom, sisters and I discussed his work and withdrawal from Hollywood. I read an article in the LA Times about his reclusion a few years ago and since have been fascinated with the idea that he’s living in some big house in the Chicago ‘burbs writing masterpieces that will surface and blow everyone away – movies far more relevant and timeless than those of his heyday.

The entire family and I were watching the national news on NBC this evening when Brian Williams mentioned the death of an iconic figure. It wasn’t the top news story, or the second, or the third. We all wondered who could have passed away? That image came up in the right-hand corner of the screen and I gasped, jaw hanging open.

John Hughes has passed away.

Tears in my eyes, I was in disbelief and still am. 58 years old and died of a heart attack while on a walk, in NYC visiting family. Sad.

Oh, it may seem so silly but this man was my ‘Michael Jackson’ – while the world gathered to mourn and celebrate the loss of their King of Pop, their star and their hero I merely watched with interest and fascination; wanting to feel what they felt or see what they saw in Michael Jackson. Sure, I felt sad at the unnecessary loss of human life, but nothing that brought me to feeling a personal loss. Not until now. Today I lost my King of Storytelling.

I recite lines from Uncle Buck on a daily basis, it’s not the holidays without watching Home Alone and…

I do not know of a single girl who has watched Sixteen Candles or Pretty In Pink and was unable to sympathize with Molly Ringwald’s character in either film.

Then there’s what I consider to be the jewels of Hughes’ work – Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club and Christmas Vacation

Words escape me. There’s so many things I feel right now, chief among them is the great sadness to lose such a talented and prolific man who was able to express the honest and intricate workings of the teenage psyche. He didn’t exploit his audience, he gave them a voice to show the world how sensitive and influential they were. Hughes was simply able to view life and present it through a witty, honest and stylized view in a way no one will ever be able to do again. His films are more than entertainment and that’s evident in how 20+ years later on a Saturday afternoon you can surf through your cable channels and find at least one of this movies playing, making people laugh and nod along in understanding with the well-crafted characters.

I want to go to the video store and collect my treasured John Hughes films and dive deeply into them because that will be his legacy – the ability for future generations to connect with and be entertained by his works.

And in all of this, I’m hoping my notion is right; that somewhere in the drawers of a large desk are scripts of movies yet to be made. But that’s selfish to think about, I know that no matter what John will live on through his masterpieces and for that I’m happy.