Can you believe I’ve never felt loneliness like this before? I’ve always had a friend or a relative, I could turn to when I needed someone. I guess being an only child helped me to see aloneness as a plus. It’s typically a familiar place of content. I always had my books and my pets to keep me company. Yet, in these beginning days of summer, I find myself experiencing loneliness.
I don’t feel isolated like during the pandemic, and I’m certainly not friendless. My immediate family is very near, and my closest friends are just a phone call away. I also have mobility of body and transportation. Yet, I have a loneliness of soul. It feels like all my confidantes are gone – like all those persons who knew me inside out are deceased. I find myself longing to talk to them, to be with them. I miss the comradery of just sitting in their presence. We didn’t have to speak. We could just be. To be honest, maybe it’s not loneliness, maybe it’s grief. Loneliness and grief seem to go hand in hand if the people you long for are gone from your life.
The other day my grandson stopped by to say goodbye before starting his round-the-world trip to Oregon. We talked about all of the stops he planned to make along the way. When he said, Tennessee, he paused. Then he said he remembered how we went to Memphis every year to see Uncle Fred. He said, “I miss that, I miss him.” Me too. I miss my Uncle Fred so much. He was always glad to see me – all of us – and he never failed to welcome us into his home, into his pride-filled loving deportment. Sometimes we’d sit on the patio and watch his cats chase one another. The sweet smell of bougainvillea clinging to the air and the drone of the TV in the room behind us brought such peace and comfort to me. That kind of quiet and love was found on the porches of so many of my great relatives, I miss that the most.
I wonder if my ninety-three-year-old mom feels this loneliness since the world has changed so much in her lifetime. I wonder if she’s lonely for the friends and family she has outlived. I wonder if she misses the traditions of writing and receiving letters and cards or eating tomato sandwiches while talking about childhood adventures. She talks about people from her past a lot and she loves to explain old pictures of herself and her cousins.
Personally, I miss the smells of great-grandma’s kitchen and the smell of Prince Albert from great-grandpa’s pipe. I miss the humming of my grandmother’s no-name songs and the whine and tang of my grandfather’s voice. I miss the flowers that my cousin used to draw while we sat on my great aunt’s porch fanning flies. I miss writing letters and sharing my dreams with an aunt who called me her Aunt Tricia. I miss seeing my godmother and the quilts that she made with her church friends. All those days are gone and there’s no way to get them back because the people and the places are gone. Memories are nice, but they leave a sense of loneliness that nothing in my life today can fill.
I guess that’s why I write nostalgic fiction and narrative poetry. It helps me recapture the familiar. It helps me fight the loneliness. It brings those memories from yester-year into the present. I’m so thankful for old photos, letters, and cards that make me smile and feel the closeness of those old days. It’s like a hug from the past. That’s why it is so important to me that we (all of us) share our family stories with each generation. We shouldn’t let these memories die. Here’s a quote from Paul Tsongas, I like, “We are a continuum. Just as we reach back to our ancestors for our fundamental values, so we, as guardians of the legacy, must reach ahead to our children. And we do so with a sense of sacredness in that reaching.”
I’ve learned to fight loneliness in my own way. Trust me, these are not recommendations for anyone; it is just what works for me. I read the letters and cards that I’ve saved over the years. I share family pictures with my relatives and ask them to share pictures with me. I talk to elderly people in the community and ask them about their lives and experiences. I take walks in cemeteries. I read the epitaphs and dates on the headstones. I save and re-read obituaries. I read southern gothic literature. I participate in family reunions and call on my living relatives and friends. Lastly, I allow myself to cry when I feel sad and lonely.
I guess we all deal with loneliness from time to time, but we don’t have to deal with it alone. Let someone know how you are feeling. Writing can be cathartic too. There is always help in our Beloved community. If you would like to share how you fight loneliness, I’d love to hear it. Peace and Safety to all.
The Good Word 