The Loneliness Epidemic
My Thanksgiving story
I am a seventy-year-old woman whose husband passed in May. I have no family in Florida, where I live. My pool of friends shrunk greatly when many left the country after Trump was elected in 2016. Others left the state because of Governor DeSantis’s wars on education and healthcare. My two best friends don’t celebrate holidays.
I live in a townhome community with neighbors all around. All know about Ben’s death. All know I live alone. Most know my nearest family is more than 1,000 miles away.
After the Thanksgiving holiday, neighbors went out of their way to inquire about my Thanksgiving. Again and again, these people cheerfully asked, “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”
Over and over, I replied, “ I worked.” Those two words were always met with an incredulous look and a comment like, “Why would you work on Thanksgiving?”
My reply was always, “Because it was better than sitting home alone, missing Ben, and crying.’
After that, no one had much to say. I’d get a sad look before the person would say goodbye and rush off.
Not one of those people thought to invite this recently widowed lady to their Thanksgiving dinner. I doubt I would have gone had I received an invitation or invitations, but it would have been nice to…
