Ask anyone who’s been widowed: “Are you lonely?” The answer varies depending on circumstances, but let’s say said widow doesn’t have children. Even if she has a busy life and fills her days with volunteer work, exercise and social time, she still comes home to an empty house, except for her loving dog who is especially happy to see her if it’s dinnertime.
Okay, full confession: It’s me. I know, surprise! You didn’t see that coming. Yes, I’m busy, and I’ve deliberately made myself busy, partly because I’m retired and I can’t imagine not being useful in the world any longer. But I also try to avoid being alone with my thoughts too much. I think it’s helpful to sit still now and then to reflect on my happy marriage and the good memories that go along with that. It makes the grieving process more bearable. Yet there’s a fine line between being alone with your thoughts and dwelling on what might have been.
As I’ve shared, I’ve been through a life-changing health crisis. Once I was well again, I had to figure out what the rest of my life would look like. This is daunting, to say the least. I’m not a shy introvert, so staying home was not an option, although writing is solitary work. I thought about going back to work when I was cleared to do so, but I wanted to focus on new things to go along with my new life. In retrospect, this was a wise decision, because I think going back to my “old” life without my husband in it would have been much worse. I needed a clean slate. It’s been about a year and a half now, and I’m pleased with the direction I’m taking. But oh, the nights are a different story.
I belong to a widows/widowers group online and it’s a refrain I hear often. Most of us either don’t have children, or the children are grown and gone, so we all come home to an empty house. At the end of the day, the bed is so much bigger with just one person in it.
I’m very lucky; I have a lot of good friends but most of them are coupled up. They are happy to see me generally during the day for lunch, or sometimes on Saturday or Sunday for brunch or a barbecue. Every couple of weeks there’s a mid-week event in the evening that I can attend and I’m very active in our local theatre (future column alert!). But whereas Tony and I were invited out as a couple, I am often overlooked as a singleton, probably because it feels strange to have a third- or fifth-wheel tag along. I don’t push it because I get it, but my social life has certainly taken a hit. (Believe me, I’m not being passive-aggressive and guilting people into a pity invite, just stating the facts.) Also, there’s a small part of me that wonders if my “couple” friends are uncomfortable with my being solo because that’s another sad reminder that Tony is no longer with us. For those of them reading this: I completely understand that.
U.S. statistics indicate that 31% of women 65 or older were widowed in 2019. A study done by Frontiers in Public Health (Volume 12, May 1, 2024) indicates that elevated loneliness in widows is associated with declines in mental and physical health, and reduced physical activity over time. Happily for me, volunteering is shown to reduce loneliness, and I have two volunteer jobs that I love. Helping people feels good. It also gets you out of the house.
The pandemic also threw quite a landmine into the lives of those who live alone, including many older adults, since the shelter-in-place mandate kept us all in our homes. I learned recently that social isolation is linked to a 50% increase in dementia, as well as higher risks of heart disease and stroke.* Given the “trickle down” effect, loneliness affects us all in some way. And since timing is everything, I’m a little shocked at the coincidence that I chose this week to write about loneliness when it is National Singles Week.
We’ll leave dating in your 60s for another column, but for now, I kindly ask that you look around and see if you have any single friends who could benefit from more social time with you. It might be just the ticket, getting them out of the house for a few hours to alleviate their undoubted loneliness. I guarantee you’ll feel good about that.
*AARP The Magazine, August/September 2025
