Loneliness After Grief Poem

I am dying. A slow, painful death of loneliness and despair…

You were my only friend, my everything, my love. Since you’ve been gone and I’ve moved away, I have no one. There is not one single person who would knock on my door to check when I’ve not been seen for a while. No one to help out if I’m ill in bed, to walk the dogs or fetch my groceries.

I am surrounded by humans, but nobody is human. You have to be old and wrinkly, a little deaf or wobbly, before people show compassion and the odd kind neighbour might see how you are and give you five minutes of their time.
My children are too busy with their lives, and who wants to guilt trip them into visiting. Would they even notice if I slipped away. Would they mourn me, or be relieved of the burden my grief causes them.
Loneliness is a vicious cycle of knowing you must put yourself out there, but being too sad and depressed to do it, or too lacking in confidence. Like the tortoise who tentatively pokes his head out of his shell, but the slightest set back and he curls back up inside.

I am dying. A slow, painful death of loneliness and despair…

My suicidal thoughts are often, since you’ve been gone, my love. There seems no point in staying here. I’ve even researched ways in which to go and I sometimes fear I will lose control of such thoughts and they will take over and become a reality.

So I force myself out with strangers. Some company and a bit of small talk, but there are no friendships to be had. We are all drowning in our loneliness, yet cannot grasp onto each other, like everyone scrambling for the same lifeboat. I chat to shop assistants and anyone who’ll listen, but they won’t be knocking on my door to see I’m okay. They won’t be giving me the hug I need when I’m down.

I try something new every month and kid myself I’m having fun, but nothing is fun without you. Life is for sharing. I see a beautiful sunset and want to say to someone “Wow! Look at that,” but nobody is there. When I’ve been out and had a nice time, I want to come home and tell someone all about it, but the house is empty, the silence is deafening. The days and weeks pass without seeing a soul sometimes and I have to force myself not to go down the rabbit hole.

I often ponder should I die in my sleep or drop dead of a heart attack, how many weeks would I be lying there before I was found and I worry how the dogs would survive without being fed. Perhaps they would have to eat me in desperation. I would not mind, if it meant they survived.

Loneliness is a silent pandemic. It is not reserved just for the elderly or those of us grieving. It affects all ages. Suicide rates are high in the young. Nobody wants to be a burden so they suffer in silence and often those that do cry for help are not heard, until it’s too late.

I am dying. A slow, painful death of loneliness and despair…

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