Community-building pays off on the holidays

You may live alone, but you don't have to be alone

I had a good Christmas. It was not traditional, but I went to bed with a full heart and a full stomach. Not everyone can say that.

Throughout the day, I was aware of my sister-friend who spent the day alone in her senior apartment because she was too sick to go anywhere. She has rallied and will celebrate a late Christmas with her family, but how many are like her? Alone and unseen, eating a frozen dinner by themselves?

On the Facebook Elder Orphans group, I read sad stories of older people living alone and experiencing severe health problems. Forget Christmas. They are more concerned about how they’re going to get to the hospital and get the treatment they need with no one to help. We’re all scared of that, aren’t we? We will talk about this a lot more in the future but today let’s focus on Christmas.

My Christmas Eve was long and lonely, except for Mass and caroling at church. Even then, I looked out at all the festively dressed couples and families in the pews and felt my singleness. Among all these combinations of people, I was just one and would always be just one.

On the way home from church, I parked overlooking the beach for a while and watched the waves roll in and out in the dark. I didn’t want to go home to an empty house, an ordinary dinner for one, and opening gifts alone. I stared at the ocean and thought, I never wanted to be alone. I wanted a family. It’s not fair. And it isn’t.

Then I went home and ate my burrito and salad. I opened a couple gifts, missing the madness of Christmas mornings with wrapping paper and ribbon flying as everyone unwraps together. I also missed the romantic mornings with my husband when we slowly opened the things we had bought for each other, with hugs and kisses in-between. It’s not the same when you do it by yourself, nor does it take very long because there aren’t many packages to open.

I shrugged it off, ate a pumpkin-chocolate chip cookie and retired to the hot tub to soak on a surprisingly starry night.

I had barely gotten my clothes back on before the doorbell rang. My young neighbors and their guests had come to sing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” and offer goodies from their party, along with lots of hugs and “we love you’s.” I felt so much better.

In the morning, after playing the piano at another Mass, I took my guitar to their house and sang a couple songs for them. It felt good.

Meanwhile, I received texts from my brother, my nephew, and my niece with photos of the kids playing with their presents. Beautiful. I realized I was okay not being there. They had their parties, and I had mine.

I was invited to dinner by my friends who have included me and other “orphans” in their celebrations for years. Their grown children were not there, but their foster kids, a neighbor and the neighbor’s daughter were there, along with two cats and a dog named Buddy. It was loud with talk and noisy toys, messy with more toys and an endless supply of food. We never ran out of things to talk about or toys to play with. The little one accepted me as a grandma type and wanted to show me his toys. The teen wanted to talk about how she does not want to go back to school after the winter break. The 21-year-old told us about her wild adventure driving to Alaska in a van with her partner.

There was sadness too. The host’s mom died this year as did the neighbor’s partner. We felt their absence. But we had fun.

I stayed longer than expected then headed home past all the dark shops and empty parking lots, finally coming to my street, turning the corner and seeing . . . elk. Lots of elk. It seemed a fitting end to the day.

I am grateful for my neighbors, friends, and family, here, at a distance, and online. I would be a lot more alone if I hadn’t developed this community of people over the years through church, writing, music, yoga, and my daily walks. I’m shy by nature, and I chicken out of a lot of things, but I seem to have done enough to build relationships that pay off.

If you don’t have a built-in family, it’s essential to reach out to others. Join a church or any group that does something you’re passionate about. It could be quilting, hiking, or community service. Cats. Cooking. Anything. Talk to your neighbors. Introduce yourself to people, and if you like them, follow up. Most people will reach back once the connection is made.

If you truly can’t leave your home, use technology to connect online and by phone, like my friend Claire who lives in a nursing home.

If you live alone, you will still have those moments of grief and loneliness. God knows I felt it on Christmas Eve before and after church.

But then the neighbors came caroling.

It’s fine to be alone and hermit out when you want to, but when you don’t want to, visit, call, text, post online, or write a letter. It’s okay to say, “I’m lonely. Can we do something together? Can I come over? Can we just talk for a few minutes?” Do whatever you need to do to break the isolation and see that you are not as alone as you thought you were.

I know people who volunteered at community meals this Christmas, and I know people who happily stayed home alone. How about you? How were your holidays? What did you do? Have you learned anything that would help us all have a happier time next year? Please share in the comments. I’m eager to find out how you spent your holidays.

Further reading

Here are some good ideas for getting through the holidays alone: Spending Christmas alone this year? How to make the most of it

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About the photo: I had to take a picture of the ornaments my neighbor hung on this winter-bare bush. People here on the Oregon coast are quirky like that. On my way to church, I passed a plastic reindeer straddling a mailbox—is Santa missing one?—and a huge Halloween skeleton dressed up with Christmas lights. Do whatever makes you happy.

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How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available now at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.