Retirement has unveiled the loneliness that has been building for years.
From the moment I retired, the problems started, I thought, realizing how age can expose years of isolation.
Im sixty. For the first time, I feel as if I no longer existfor my children, my grandchildren, my exhusband, even for the world. Yet Im still here. I go to the pharmacy, buy bread, sweep the little yard outside my window. Inside, however, theres an emptiness that grows heavier each morning now that I no longer rush to work, and no one calls to ask, Mom, are you okay?
I have lived alone for years. My children are grown, each with their own families, and live in other cities: my son in Lyon, my daughter in Marseille. My grandchildren are getting older, but I barely know them. I dont see them go to school, I no longer knit scarves for them, I dont tell bedtime stories. They have never invited me over. Never.
One day I asked my daughter,
Why dont you want me to come? I could help with the kids
She replied, calmly but coldly,
Mom, you know My husband doesnt like you. Youre always meddling, and you have your way of doing things
I said nothing. Shame washed over me. It hurt. I wasnt trying to impose; I just wanted to be near them. And the answer was, He doesnt like you. Neither the grandchildren nor the children. It felt as if I had been erased. Even my exhusband, who lives in the neighboring village, never finds the time to see mejust a brief birthday text once a year, as if it were a favor.
When I retired, I told myself: finally, time for me. I would knit, take morning walks, enroll in painting classes like Id always dreamed. Instead, anxiety arrived in place of joy.
First came baffling episodes: racing heart, dizziness, sudden fear of dying. I visited doctors, underwent scans, MRIs, ECGs. Nothing. One physician told me,
Its in your head. You need to talk to someone, get out of the house. Youre alone.
That was worse than any diagnosis, because there is no pill for loneliness.
Sometimes I go to the supermarket just to hear the cashiers voice. Other times I sit on the bench in front of the building, pretending to read, hoping someone will strike up a conversation. But everyone is in a hurry, running everywhere, while I remain, breathing, remembering
What have I done wrong? Why has my family turned away? I raised them alone. Their father left early. I worked day and night, cooked, ironed their uniforms, cared for them when they were sick. I never drank, never partiedeverything for them. And now I feel useless.
Maybe I was too strict? Too controlling? I only wanted them to become good, responsible people. I shielded them from bad company and mistakes. And now Im left alone.
Im not seeking pity, just understanding: am I such a terrible mother? Or is it simply the era, when everyone has their own worriesdebts, school, activitiesleaving no room for their mother?
People sometimes say, Find a man. Sign up on dating sites. But I cant. Trust has vanished after so many solitary years. I lack the strength to open up, fall in love, welcome a stranger into my home. My health isnt what it used to be, either.
I cant work anymore. Before, there were colleagueschats, laughter. Now there is silence so heavy that I turn on the TV just to hear a voice.
At times I think, what if I disappeared? Would anyone notice? My children, my ex, the neighbor on the third floor? The thought scares me to tears.
Then I get up, go to the kitchen, make tea, and tell myself maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe someone will think of me, call, write. Maybe I still matter to someone.
As long as theres a sliver of hope, I am still alive.
Retirement Unveils Years of Hidden Solitude
