Connection Champion

One of the great benefits of being in this field for nearly 25 years is gathering experiences and stories. The experiences stay with you, and the stories shape you.

Over the years, I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that living in a senior living community isn’t for everyone. While I personally believe in it without hesitation, I stopped trying long ago to “convince” people that living in a community like Friendship Haven is the right choice for everyone.

But there is something I have come to believe without hesitation: connection matters greatly in how we age.

There is an important distinction here. Living alone does not necessarily mean being lonely. Many people live alone and have wonderfully connected, full lives. But when being alone becomes isolation, and when we lose meaningful connections, it can affect us in powerful ways.

And this isn’t just about how many people surround us. It is about how we live. Having people who know us, places where we belong, and reasons to get up and engage with the world matter.

Recent AARP research on loneliness and social connection found that 40% of U.S. adults age 45 and older met its measure of loneliness. The study also found that men were more likely to experience loneliness than women.

Loneliness Among Adults Age 45-Plus Is Increasing

As I read about the study, I found myself thinking about a man I knew years ago who moved to Friendship Haven a few months after losing his wife.

In short, he came to us because he was lost. He moved into one of our independent living apartments unsure of how to move forward. After he had been here a few weeks, he talked openly about how this was a chapter of his life he had never planned for. He had always assumed that, as the husband, he would go first. His wife was very social, and he imagined she would have no problem carrying on without him.

He never imagined it would be him living without her.

For years, his wife had been much of their connection to other people. Now he was faced with an entirely new reality, and loneliness took on a new meaning. Then, slowly, something incredible started to happen. My new friend began trying new things. He started leaving his apartment more. He sat with different people at lunch. He had conversations. People learned his story, and he began learning theirs.

The loneliness didn’t magically disappear. But the connections he was making started to become more powerful than the loneliness.

It wasn’t because we had the perfect calendar of “structured activities.” It happened because his new neighbors and friends were interested in him and his life. He, in turn, became interested in theirs.

It was incredible to be a bystander to his journey. As he left his apartment more often, not only did his physical appearance begin to change, but his spirit and attitude did as well. He participated more and more. Then the real magic happened. He began reaching out to people who were new to Friendship Haven. The man who had arrived feeling lost and alone became someone who helped another person feel less alone. He became the light for someone else.

I know this happens everywhere. It certainly isn’t a phenomenon unique to Friendship Haven. Connection can happen in neighborhoods, churches, coffee shops, volunteer organizations, families, and countless other places. What a community like Friendship Haven can do, however, is make those opportunities for connection incredibly convenient at a time in life when loneliness can quietly come knocking.

We have a beautiful campus, and I care deeply about how Friendship Haven looks. But I care much more passionately about whether our campus is a champion of connection. The relationships between team members and residents matter tremendously. But so do the friendships residents develop with one another. The person who notices you weren’t at lunch, the neighbor who asks you to join them, the friend who saves you a seat, or the person who simply knows your story. They become valuable in ways you may not know you needed.

Those relationships begin to mean more and help sustain us.

The gentleman I still think about all these years later is only one of many people I have watched begin an unexpected chapter of life. Maybe that is one of the greatest lessons nearly 25 years in aging services has taught me. We can’t always choose the chapters life gives us.

But we can keep choosing connections.

And sometimes, if we are fortunate, the person who once needed someone to reach out to them becomes the person reaching out a hand to someone else.