I attend funerals because people speak to me there

Dear Delyara, I am seventy-four and live alone. Over the past year, I have begun attending funerals for people I barely knew. Former colleagues, neighbours’ relatives, members of the church I stopped attending regularly. Funerals are the only gatherings where no one questions why an older man arrives alone. People shake my hand, offer tea, ask how I knew the deceased, and sit beside me without needing entertainment. Last Thursday, I attended the funeral of a woman from the pharmacy. I had spoken to her perhaps six times. Her daughter thanked me for coming and hugged me. I held the hug too long. At home, I felt ashamed. I do not want people to die. I want the room their death creates: chairs close together, names spoken aloud, strangers allowed to admit they need company. Tomorrow, there is another service at the church. I have already ironed my black shirt. Loneliness has made me look forward to the only social invitation no one is happy to receive.