No cure for loneliness
My father died 16 years ago. My mother, I thought, was strong. My mother, I would think on different days, is very frail.<p>She did a lot to <i>occupy</i> herself. She enrolled in sewing classes, even though she knew a lot already, because it offered some company each week. She joined a group of friends to go visiting museums and sites and other things, for the same reason. She made sure to spend weekends with friends. She had her children with her, some times more frequently than others.<p>I believe she held up quite well for a number of years. I used to see her every week, once, twice, maybe speak on the phone when I couldn&#x27;t go.<p>Her sewing teacher moved to the other side of town; she made the effort to still go there, but by 2018-2019 she was too tired to drive all that way for just two hours. She tried but in the end she stopped going. Then 2020. The museum group was cancelled. She couldn&#x27;t go visit her friends on weekends. My siblings stopped visiting. My own visits became, for a while, less frequent but we talked every single night on the phone.<p>As soon as the April lockdowns ended, I started going almost every single day but it was just too late already. We put our masks and went out to the park just outside her building for a walk. Or grocery shopping. Or just stayed at home when the weather was sour.<p>Just those two months of March and April 2020, of rarely going outside, of being alone most of the day, were devastating. On the one hand, her physique was hit. Where she had been a healthy person before, she was now starting to feel quite tired even after &quot;just&quot; cooking, and then having difficulty just walking. But much more than that, much more profound, was the effect on her mind. Where she had been lucid and quick, keeping track of her appointments, her tasks, family, friends, events, etc, she started forgetting... well, everything. Most days now she doesn&#x27;t remember what day of the week it is, even after being told just five minutes ago, or that she broke her hip and couldn&#x27;t get up on her feet for some time. She has a very hard time keeping her attention through a conversation. The TV is mostly a mystery; she watches intently without being able to follow the plot, frequently asking what is happening or who the characters are.<p>She just called to ask why don&#x27;t we go for lunch; she&#x27;ll call my siblings too, she says. I explained that we were all going <i>after</i> lunch so it&#x27;s easier. My brother, his wife and kids will eat there and then the rest will go visit and we will all get together. 15 minutes later she sends a short message inviting us all for lunch again.<p>There is a pattern to it, of course. I don&#x27;t think she consciously knows but most of the things she says, most of her ideas, are about visiting, about staying there just a bit more. I can stay for a week and then, when I have to go, she&#x27;ll suggest casually that I can stay if I want, that she can prepare a bed for me -which she really can&#x27;t; I prepare hers-. I go out the door and she&#x27;ll call me to go for dinner or something. She <i>craves</i> the company.<p>I think the lack of exercise was like a weight on her, a physical weight added to her muscles that slows her down and tires her. But I feel the loneliness was like a punch to her head every single day. A really hard but unseen blow that has accumulated day after day and has broken her.<p>I am broken-hearted, of course, but fortunately I&#x27;ve been able to accept it. Whatever happens, we&#x27;ll go through it together, with a good disposition and as much of a smile as we can keep. But the really hard part is looking back, just three years back, and realizing just how hard of a fall it has been, how complete of a difference the loneliness has made.