Leave a lock on this bridge for remembrance

As he approaches the Love Lock bridge in Lambertville, Chris Herncane noticeably struggles with his emotions. The idyllic setting on the Delaware and Raritan Canal towpath counters the heaviness in the air, and the moment feels sacred, even as bikers and walkers blithely pass by.
The story that Herncane has come to tell me hovers between us. It is one he rarely tells.
The tradition behind love lock bridges is of couples commemorating their everlasting love by securing padlocks to bridges, and then tossing the keys aside. Many are familiar with the famous love lock bridge in Paris, but these bridges are now common everywhere.
The one in Lambertville is charming; with locks that are the obvious handiwork of artists and creative people. Some are handpainted. Some are decorated with ribbons, glitter, and plastic jewels. Others bear handwritten or engraved messages. Surrounded by the locks, a large plaque reads, “Lambertville’s Love Lock Bridge, Leave a lock: for loved ones, family, friends and for the departed. In honor of Helene.”
Standing next to the locks, Herncane animatedly points out his favorites. But it isn’t until our interview moves to an empty restaurant nearby that he starts his story, “My daughter, Helene, died of an accidental overdose during the drug epidemic.” He adds, “I loved being a dad. It was the greatest thing I ever got to do.”
Herncane was caught off guard when he found out about his daughter’s drug addiction. Helene was a teenager who studied abroad, adored her friends, and enjoyed art. With no family history of drug addiction, Herncane didn’t know what to do. “There’s a lot of shame around drugs, especially heroin. No one wants to talk about it. I didn’t know who would turn their backs on me if they knew. So, I lived in silence, afraid to tell even my truest friends.”
As Herncane pieces together his story, he seems to step gingerly around internal landmines of buried memories. Some of his sentences taper off as he searches for the right words to tell a story that doesn’t end the way anyone wants it to. At 19 years old, against her father’s wishes, Helene was released from rehabilitation to an addict who then gave her a lethal dose of fentanyl.

And this began Herncane’s two-year struggle for justice. He spoke to countless lawyers. All were reluctant to take a case that no one believed they could win. There seemed to be more interest in simply going after the “big money.” Herncane persisted and joined parents speaking out for change in the state capital. He didn’t stop fighting until the day a police detective told him that the man who’d given Helene fentanyl had died.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever accepted the fact that I lost. That I was never going to change anything. That I wasn’t going to get justice,” Herncane notes. “A lot of people in my family warned me this was how it could end, but I knew if I didn’t try, I would hate myself. And how do you heal from that?”
Traditional therapy, grief groups, and alternative healers barely eased the pain. It was a bike ride with friends through Herncane’s beloved hometown of Lambertville that led to a life-changing moment. “I saw a lone lock on the bridge,” Herncane remembers, “I said out loud, ‘I’m going to turn this into a love lock bridge, just like in Paris.’ And I meant it. It was the first time in a long time that I didn’t want to let myself down.”
After creating his own locks to add to the bridge, Herncane spread the word, and contributions started pouring in from friends and family. The day that Herncane witnessed a family he didn’t know fastening locks on the bridge, he realized that people truly understood the intent of his project. He explains, “The Lambertville Love Lock Bridge is about your best friend who’s still living, or about your grandmother or child who you miss. It’s about your pet or your family. I miss my child, but I don’t want the bridge to be all about sadness or sorrow. I want it to be about love: past, present, and future. There’s so much more to do. I love this community and want the Love Lock Bridge to be around long after I’m gone.”
While the Love Lock Bridge in Lambertville was started to commemorate a father’s love for a child, it is also a celebration of deep love for community. Each thoughtfully designed lock adds to the beauty of the bridge and creates a sense of connectedness.
“There is a lot of happiness and love here,” Herncane says with a smile. “My daughter would be proud of this bridge. I know she is looking at it and saying, ‘Dad, that’s exactly what I would have done.’”

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