Retirement Reveals the Loneliness Built Over Years
The moment I retired, the troubles began: How old age uncovers years of accumulated solitude
Im sixty. For the first time in my life, I feel as though I no longer existnot to my children, my grandchildren, my ex-husband, or even the world. Yet Im here. I live. I go to the chemist, I buy bread, I sweep the little courtyard beneath my window. But inside, theres a void, growing heavier each morning when I no longer rush to work. When no one calls to ask, Mum, are you all right?
Ive lived alone for years. My children are grown, with families of their own, and live in other citiesmy son in Manchester, my daughter in Brighton. My grandchildren are growing up, and I barely know them. I dont see them off to school, I no longer knit them scarves, I dont tell them bedtime stories. Ive never been invited to their homes. Not once.
One day, I asked my daughter:
Why dont you want me to visit? I could help with the children
She replied, calm but icy:
Mum, you know why My husband doesnt like you. Youre always interfering, and you have your way of doing things
I said nothing. I felt ashamed. It hurt. I wasnt imposingI just wanted to be near them. And the answer: He doesnt like you. Not the grandchildren, not the children. As if Id been erased. Even my ex-husband, who lives in the next village, never finds time to see me. Once a year, a brief birthday message. Like a favour.
When I retired, I thought: at last, time for myself. Ill knit, take morning walks, finally try those painting classes Id dreamt of. But instead of happiness, anxiety settled in.
First came unexplained episodesmy heart racing, dizziness, a sudden fear of dying. I saw doctors, had tests, MRIs, ECGs. Nothing. One doctor said:
Its in your head. You need to talk to someone, see people. Youre alone.
That was worse than a diagnosis. Because theres no medicine for loneliness.
Sometimes, I go to the supermarket just to hear the cashiers voice. Other times, I sit on the bench outside my building, pretending to read, hoping someone might speak to me. But people are in a hurry. Everyones rushing. And Im just there. 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 meals, ironed their school uniforms, stayed up when they were ill. I never drank, never went out. Everything for them. And now, Im of no use.
Perhaps I was too strict? Too controlling? But I only wanted the bestfor them to be good, responsible people. I shielded them from bad influences, from mistakes. And in the end, here I am. Alone.
I dont want pity. Just to understand: was I such a terrible mother? Or is it just this age, where everyone has their worriesmortgages, school runs, endless activitiesand no room left for their mum?
Some say, Find a man. Join a dating site. But I cant. I dont trust anymore. Too many years alone. I havent the strength to open up, to fall in love, to let a stranger into my home. Besides, my health isnt what it was.
Working again is out of the question. Before, there were colleagueschats, laughter. Now, its silence. So heavy that I turn on the telly just to hear a voice.
Sometimes I wonder: if I vanished, would anyone notice? My children? My ex? The neighbour on the third floor? It terrifies me. Enough to weep.
But then I get up, go to the kitchen, make a cup of tea. I 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 hope, Im still alive.
*The lesson? Time moves on, but love shouldnt. Reach out before silence becomes the loudest sound in someones life.*
