Lonely is a Hollow Shell

      Lonely is a Hollow Shell

If you aren’t married to a passion that provides personal fulfillment, then being lonely is one of the worst experiences in life. The setting in which loneliness takes place is important.  Lonely in a crowd of strangers?––big deal. Lonely in a community in which you are involved hurts to the core. Your presence is acknowledged, but you aren’t important enough to talk to. It creates the impression that you are not important; you are unworthy of attention. Where then is one’s value affirmed? From family, perhaps mother, father, uncle, aunt, brothers, sisters, son, daughter, even a pet. In the absence of friends in a community or family, being lonely is like living in an empty shell. Why would one accept being lonely?

In my novel, Baggage burdens. Joseph experiences the gnawing discomfort of loneliness in ever increasing degrees. As an only child, he has just his parents to look to for love. No siblings. Not serious you say. Then his parents die. His grandparents adopt him. While they are caring people, it’s not the same. The antagonistic nature of the four uncles, who still live with Joseph’s grandparents, proves to be isolating for Joseph. Then, from the fifth uncle, Uncle Mike, Joseph inherits a farm in the community of orthodox Christians.  There, he is publicly accepted, but there is little personal socializing. Joseph manages until Butch, Uncle Mike’s dog, dies. What now? His answer––start your own family. It’s an answer that temporarily solves his loneliness. Like his Uncle Mike he discovers what is worse than being lonely.

Silence returns as Joseph stares down at his runners. Then he looks directly at Jill. In a very serious tone, he asks, “Do you think I’m weird?”

“Different, not weird.” 

Her answer takes only a second. He quits fidgeting.

 “I am weird. At least that’s what my uncles said.”

 Joseph’s confession is a little louder than a whisper, almost as if he doesn’t want to let her in on an embarrassing part of his life. Once again he looks down at his feet.

When he doesn’t say anything, Jill places her hand on Joseph’s hand to comfort him.

“Defending my Uncle Mike often got me in a lot of trouble.”

His younger brothers labeled Uncle Mike and then Joseph as the black sheep of the family.

 “You know,” begins Joseph. He pauses and swallows. “You know, Uncle Mike left me two-thirds of his land. I was only twenty-one. His will said I was like a son to him. Uncle Mike never married.” 

Tears flood Joseph’s eyes again. They stop walking. Jill wraps both her arms around Joseph and holds him until she hears him whisper her name. 

He steps back. “I’d like to tell you something.” He pauses. “It’s very, very personal, and I’m afraid it may turn you off.  If it bothers you, promise you’ll pretend I never said anything?”

Jill provides a cautious response. “I’ll try. What is it?”

Joseph holds both her hands in his. “I’m afraid I might end up like Uncle Mike. I’ll die alone, unmarried, without children.”

Jill shakes her head. “No, you’re too nice a person.”

“So was Uncle Mike. You see, I live in a community, no near a community, that while they accept me, I know they don’t trust me. They don’t want me near their daughters. It’s like they’ve spread the word that I’m a leper or something. I attend all their social events, and I go to their church, but there is always a multitude of chaperones around the girls when I’m around. I’ve seen that’s not the case with other young guys.

haiku capsule:                 

so hard to admit

not wanted, embarrassing

heart of loneliness

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Leave Me Alone