Lonely Hearts Club Brand

Dear Sea of Lonely, 

I wish you would stop rising up in me. Good thing that I also have a well of courage to counteract your waves.

It’s been almost one year since Beau moved to Juniper. He’s in the right place, but ever since then, I have been lost. I can’t stand the thought of my father forgetting his wild and precious life. It’s like a part of me is disappearing too.

Writing us down keeps me afloat. Sometimes I even burst out laughing when I recall certain things. Like, for example, my father’s fear that us kids were going to fall prey to a cult. Beau hoarded de-programming books the way he did health supplements. Little did he know, that HE was our cult. Beau made us do the wildest and craziest things of all: like swim and canoe in alligator-filled waters,  drive around the South in an ancient and un-air-conditioned van, and eat dog biscuits as if they were cookies.

We were the cult of fear AND courage. Intermittently protecting and challenging each other. When we did the things that scared us, like ride Space Mountain at Disney World, we raised our fists to celebrate our victory—after we peeled our hands off the ride’s metal safety bar.

My arms feel heavy these days, though. My fists dangle around my knees (Bercaws have absurdly long arms). I’d swim but my shoulders hurt too much to rotate them. Then I look at the picture of Beau holding newborn David Beauregard and I remember that arms can wrap no matter how tired they are. You only need to lift someone heart high to drown out the Sea of Lonely in your head.

Love,

Nancy

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