Living alone? You’re not alone. Historic number of Americans are doing so in old age.
Gerri Norington, 78, who lives on the South Side, says she never wanted to be on her own as she grew old.
But her first marriage ended in divorce. And her second husband died more than 30 years ago. When a five-year relationship came to a close in 2006, she found herself alone and has been since then.
"I miss having a companion who I can talk to and ask 'How was your day?' or 'What do you think of what's going on in the world?' " says Norington, who lives in an apartment building for seniors.
She has a daughter who also lives in Chicago but says, "I don't want to be a burden to her."
Norington is part of a growing population of more than 16 million Americans living alone while growing old.
The most reliable, up-to-date data about older adults who live alone comes from the Census Bureau. According to its 2023 Current Population Survey, about 28% of people 65 and older live by themselves, including slightly more than 10 million women and slightly fewer than 6 million men. Those figures don't include seniors living in institutional settings — primarily assisted living and nursing homes.
By contrast, 1 in 10 older Americans lived on their own in 1950.
Nearly four of 10 seniors living alone have vision or hearing loss, difficulty caring for themselves and living independently, problems with cognition or other disabilities, according to a KFF analysis of 2022 census data.
If help at home isn't available when needed, being alone can magnify these difficulties and contribute to worsening health.
Studies have found that seniors on their own are at higher risk of becoming isolated, depressed, inactive, having accidents and neglecting to care for themselves. As a result, they tend to be hospitalized more often and suffer earlier-than-expected deaths.
Getting medical services can be a problem, especially for older adults who don't drive or who live alone in rural areas.
And experts say doctors often don't ask about older adults' living situations and are unaware of the challenges they face.
More older adults live alone now
Some older adults live alone by circumstance, often a spouse's death. For others, it's a choice. Some have adult children or other close relatives involved in their lives. Many don't.
In interviews, several common concerns came out. How did I end up along at this stage of life? Am I OK with that? Who can I call for help? Who can make decisions on my behalf if I can't? How long will I be able to care for myself — and what happens when I can't?
This gray revolution in Americans' living arrangements is being fueled by longer life spans, rising rates of divorce and childlessness, smaller families, the geographic dispersal of family members and an emphasis on aging in place.
Another factor is what New York University sociology professor Eric Klinenberg — who has written a book on living alone and who also is known for his book "Heat Wave" on the impact of Chicago's heath wave of 1995 — calls "intimacy at a distance," or being close to family but not too close.
This is primarily an older women's issue because women outlive men and because they're less likely to remarry after being widowed or divorcing. Twenty-seven percent of women 65 to 74 years old live alone, compared with 21% of men. Remarkably, after 75, 43% of women live alone, compared with 24% for men.
The majority — 80% — of people who live alone after 65 are divorced or widowed, twice the rate of the general population, according to KFF's analysis of census data. More than 20% have incomes below $13,590, the federal poverty line in 2022, while 27% make between that and $27,180, twice the poverty level.
How older adults living alone fare varies widely, depending on factors including their financial status, housing, networks of friends and family members and resources in the communities where they live.
Attitudes can make a difference, too. Many older adults relish being independent, while others feel abandoned. It's common for loneliness to come and go even among people who have caring friends and family members.
"I like being alone better than I like being in relationships," says Janice Chavez, a Denver resident in her 70s. "I don't have to ask anybody for anything. If I want to sleep late, I sleep late. If I want to stay up and watch TV, I can. I do whatever I want to do. I love the independence and the freedom."
Chavez is twice divorced and has been on her own since 1985. As a girl, she says she wanted to be married and have lots of kids, but "I picked jerks." She says she talks with her daughter Tracy every day and is close to several neighbors. She lives in the home she grew up in, inherited from her mother in 1991. Her only sibling, a brother, died a dozen years ago.
Keeping connected with her South Side community
It's a different situation for Norington. The South Side woman says she's wondering whether to stay in her senior building or move to the suburbs after her car was vandalized this year.
"Since the pandemic, fear has almost paralyzed me from getting out as much as I would like," she says.
She's a take-charge person who has been deeply involved in her community. In 2016, Norington started an organization for single Black seniors in Chicago that sponsored speed-dating events and monthly socials for several years. She volunteered with a medical center doing outreach to seniors and brought health and wellness classes to her building. She organized cruises for friends and acquaintances to the Caribbean and Hawaii in 2022 and 2023.
Now, every morning, Norington says she sends a spiritual text message to 40 people, who often respond with messages of their own.
"It helps me to feel less alone, to feel a sense of inclusion," she says.
Raising awareness about 'solo agers'
In Maine, Ken Elliott, 77, a retired psychology professor, lives by himself in a house in Mount Vernon, a town of 1,700 people. He never got married and doesn't have children. His only living relative is an 80-year-old brother in California.
For years, Elliott has tried to raise the profile of solo agers among Maine policymakers and senior organizations. Elliott started asking about resources available to older adults living by themselves. How were they getting to doctor's appointments? Who was helping when they came home from the hospital and needed assistance? What if they needed extra help in the home but couldn't afford it?
To his surprise, Elliott says he found this group wasn't on anyone's radar, and he began advocating on solo agers' behalf.
Now, he's thinking about how to put together a team of people who can help him as he ages in place — and how to build a stronger sense of community.
"Aging without a mythic family support system — which everyone assumes people have — is tough for everybody," Elliott says.
In Manhattan, Lester Shane, 72, who never married or had children, lives by himself in an 11-by-14-foot studio apartment on the third floor of a building without an elevator. He says he didn't make much money during a long career as an actor, writer and theater director, and he's not sure how he'll make ends meet once he stops teaching at Pace University.
"There are days when I'm carrying my groceries up three flights of stairs when I think, 'This is really hard,' " Shane says
His health is pretty good, but he knows that won't last forever.
"I'm on all the lists for senior housing — all lottery situations," he says. " Most of the people I've talked to said you will probably die before your number comes up.
"I'm old and getting older, and whatever problems I have now are only going to get worse," he says.
As is the case for many older adults who live alone, his friends are getting old, too, and having difficulties of their own.
The prospect of having no one he knows well to turn to is alarming, Shane says "Underneath that is fear."
Finding community away from kids
Kate Shulamit Fagan, 80, has lived on her own since 1979, after two divorces.
"It was never my intention to live alone," she says. "I expected that I would meet someone and start another relationship and somehow sail off into the rest of my life. It's been exceedingly hard to give up that expectation."
Earlier this year, she was having difficulty in Philadelphia, where she'd moved two years earlier to be close to one of her sons because she'd been lonely.
Though her son was attentive, Fagan says she desperately missed the close circle of friends she'd left behind in St. Petersburg, Florida, where she'd lived and worked for 30 years.
By summer, she'd returned to St. Petersburg and was renting a one-bedroom apartment in a senior building. She celebrated her birthday with 10 close friends and was meeting people in her building.
"I'm not completely settled," she says. "But I feel fabulous.
"Here, I know if I want to go out or I need help, quite a few people would be there for me. The fear is gone."
