Retirement has uncovered the loneliness that has been building for years.
Once I retired, the problems started: how old age brings to light a solitude accumulated over time
I am sixty. For the first time in my life I feel as if I no longer existfor my children, my grandchildren, my exhusband, and even for the world. Yet I am still here. I live. I go to the pharmacy, buy bread, sweep the little courtyard beneath my window. Inside, however, there is an emptiness that grows heavier each morning now that I no longer have to rush to work, and no one calls to ask, Mom, how are you?
I have been living alone for years. My children are grown, each with their own families, and they live in other citiesmy son in Lyon, my daughter in Marseille. My grandchildren are getting older, and I barely know them. I dont see them go to school, I no longer knit scarves for them, I dont tell them bedtime stories. They have never invited me over. Never.
One day I asked my daughter:
Why wont you let me come? I could help with the kids
She answered, 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. I felt ashamed. It hurt. I wasnt imposing; I just wanted to be near them. And the reply was, He doesnt like you. Neither the grandchildren nor the children. As if I had been erased. Even my exhusband, who lives in the neighboring village, never finds the time to see me. Once a year, a brief birthday messagemore a courtesy than a connection.
When I retired, I told myself: finally, time for myself. I would knit, take morning walks, attend painting lessons as I had always dreamed. Instead, anxiety arrived, not happiness.
First came inexplicable episodes: a racing heart, dizzy spells, a sudden fear of dying. I consulted doctors, underwent scans, MRIs, ECGs. Nothing. One physician told me:
Its in your head. You need to talk to someone, see people. You are alone.
That was worse than a 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, pretend to read, hoping someone will start a conversation. But people are in a hurry. Everyone runs. And I just remain, breathing, remembering
What did I do wrong? Why did my family turn away from me? I raised them alone. Their father left early. I worked day and night, cooked, ironed their uniforms, watched over them when they were sick. I never drank, never celebrated. Everything for them. And now I feel useless.
Perhaps I was too strict? Too controlling? I only wanted to raise good, responsible people. I shielded them from bad influences, from mistakes. And now, here I am, alone.
Im not looking for pity, just understanding: am I such a terrible mother? Or is it simply the times we live in, where everyone has their own worries, debts, school, activities and no longer has room for their mother?
Sometimes I hear: Find a man. Sign up on dating sites. But I cant. Trust is gone after so many solitary years. I no longer have the strength to open up, fall in love, welcome a stranger into my home. Besides, my health is not what it used to be.
I cant work anymore. Before, there were colleagueschatting, laughing. Now there is only silence, so heavy that I turn on the television just to hear a voice.
At times I think: what if I vanished? Would anyone notice? My children, my ex, the neighbor on the third floor? The thought terrifies me to the point of tears.
Then I get up, go to the kitchen, make a tea, and think: maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe someone will think of me, call, write. Perhaps I still matter to someone.
As long as a sliver of hope remains, I am still alive.
Retirement Unveils Years of Lingering Loneliness.
