Desperate for a friend, 90-year-old woman reaches out

When we’re alone, sometimes we need to send out an SOS

A woman named Wanda wrote this letter to a neighbor she had never met:

“Would you consider become (sic) my friend? I’m 90 years old—live alone and all my friends have passed away. I am so lonesome and scared. Please—I pray for someone.” 

Her neighbor, Marleen, 37, lived almost across the street, but she didn’t know Wanda. In fact, she told reporters she didn’t even know anyone was living in that house until she found the letter in her mailbox. The next day, she and a friend crossed the street bearing cupcakes and met Wanda. They talked for an hour.

Wanda told them she had lived in that house for fifty years. She hadn’t left the house for the past seven years. Suffering from congestive heart failure, tied to an oxygen tank and struggling to walk, she stayed home alone, except for daily visits by caregivers who were not friends. 

Wanda was desperate and took a chance on a letter. It brought her a friend. Marleen and her family continued to visit, even after Wanda moved to a nursing home. The kids called her Grandma. The relationship filled a hole for Marlene, too, because she missed her own grandmother.

Marleen was so touched by Wanda’s situation that she started a Facebook group called Pen Pals for Seniors, matching older and younger people who needed someone to talk to. Thousands of people signed up in the first few months, and it’s still going. 

A Google search shows numerous other pen pal programs doing similar things. I find it sad that people have to start special programs to make sure everyone has friends, but God bless the people who put their hearts into this kind of work.

I think we’re all terrified of ending up like Wanda, alone in our homes, physically unable to go out, and invisible to other people, even those living nearby, so invisible her neighbor didn’t know she was there. 

At this point, I can get in my car and go. If I want to be with people, I can be with people. They may not be the same as a husband or a best friend, but I know a lot of good people. What if I couldn’t do that?

A couple weeks ago, I received a phone call from a woman named Clare, who lives in a nursing home in San Jose, California, where I’m from. She had read my book about Portuguese American women (Stories Grandma Never Told) and wanted to talk to me. Her late husband was Portuguese, and they were very involved in the Portuguese community. That first call made me feel good that my book is still reaching people. What author doesn’t want someone to praise her book?

I didn’t expect to hear from Clare again. But she started calling every day. She started calling me her friend and saying how grateful she was to have me in her life. She’s 79, not that much older than I am. I don’t know why she’s in a nursing home. She has some trouble with her speech and says she has a major weight problem, as well as a sore on her leg that won’t heal. She mostly talks about herself and her old Portuguese friends. I honestly get weary of it, but she’s lonesome. It takes courage to call a stranger. I said I would visit when I’m in San Jose for the holidays.

Yesterday, my friend John called me. We met at church many years ago. He used to sing in the choir with me, but he rarely attends anymore. He is in his 90s, widowed, and recently was in the hospital to have a new bit of cancer removed from his liver. He admits he gets depressed sometimes since his wife died. But here’s the thing. He called to check on me and to congratulate me for my recent author successes. He does that now and then. He also reads everything I post (Hi, John). If he senses that I’m feeling down, he’s on the phone cheering me up. He cares, and that means a lot.

We talked about everything from medical workers who have trouble inserting the needle for IVs and blood tests to how I need to get a new dog. His little dog Hiccup lights up his life, and he knows how much my Annie meant to me.

We both know the cancer he has been fighting for years will win one of these days, but he has a strong faith and leaves that up to God. Meanwhile, he tries to be grateful for every day. 

What a gift a phone call can be. Or a letter. Or a visit. You might be thinking, well nobody does that for me. Nobody really cares. I feel like that some days, too. 

But sometimes, when nobody’s paying attention, we have to make the move, like Wanda did. As Dr. Ruth says in her book The Joy of Connections, they can’t read your mind.

It’s not easy to admit we’re lonely. It feels like we’ve failed, like we’ve been cast out from the tribe. But maybe folks don’t realize we need them. If we were lost in the woods in a snowstorm, we would put up a flag, shine a light, or do whatever we could to be found. We can be just as lost in our living rooms. Wanda sent out a distress signal, and it worked. 

Most people are good. If they see the need, they will respond. If they don’t, they’re not the ones we want as friends anyway.

Try it this week. Make one connection. Phone, text, email, send a letter, or visit. I will if you will. 

Connect with Pen Pals for Seniors on Instagram—@pals4seniors

On this video, Marleen Brooks talks about Wanda and how her pen pal program started: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EK83NauierM

I welcome your comments

Photo by Brian Patrick Tagalog on Unsplash

---

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 new 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.