On Loneliness, Aging, and the Quiet Clock Ticking

I was reading a book, The 5 Types of Wealth by Sahil Bloom, and I tried the Memento-Mori Calendar, which was suggested by the book. A Memento Mori calendar is a visual reminder that life is finite. It typically displays your life in weeks—from birth to an average lifespan (often 80–90 years)—with each week represented by a box. As you fill in each week, it serves as a powerful prompt to reflect on how you’re spending your time and to live more intentionally, knowing that every moment counts.

My 70% filled Memento-Mori Calendar was a punch in the gut that screamed that I do not have enough time, and the loneliness made it worse. That moment of shock wasn’t just about productivity or unfinished goals. It was about connection—or the lack of it. In a world where technology helps us stay “connected,” it’s also painfully easy to feel completely alone. Especially when you’re over 50 and increasingly dependent on screens to fill the silence.

But this feeling of loneliness isn’t just emotional, but physical as well. For people over 50, loneliness is now recognized as a significant public health issue. Research shows that chronic loneliness is linked to a higher risk of stroke, diminished interest in self-care, and even cognitive decline across memory, attention, and processing. It doesn’t just hurt—it changes how our brains and bodies function.

And it’s complicated. On one hand, technology can be a lifeline. Studies suggest that having a phone, using email, or even texting regularly can reduce the risk of becoming socially isolated. On the other hand, those same devices can feel like poor substitutes for real human warmth. A notification ping is not the same as a conversation. A heart emoji is not the same as a hug.

So, what do I do when the silence grows louder?

There are ways forward, even when it feels hard. Smiling at someone at the grocery store. Calling an old friend. Filling my week with small outings—parks, libraries, local shops. Inviting someone over for tea. Volunteering. It’s in doing that that the connection begins to be rebuilt. And if you see someone else quietly fading into the background—especially another older adult—reach out. Sometimes, a simple “How are you really doing?” can be life-changing. However, where I am working, I do not have that luxury. I am mostly by myself, and the small outings happen in my dreams. There’s hardly anyone to talk to.

Loneliness isn’t always obvious. It can show up as changes in appetite, sleep, or mood. It can sound like “I’m fine,” even when the eyes say otherwise. For many, it’s a quiet ache, a sense of being left out while the world keeps spinning.

But that feeling doesn’t have to define the rest of our years. We can name it. We can face it. We can remind ourselves—and each other—that it’s never too late to connect.

So, if your almost-full Memento-mori calendar starts staring back at you, as mine did, don’t just mark another date. Make a plan. Take a step. Speak to someone. Let’s not let time slip away while we wait in silence.