I leave the television on for the voices

Dear Delyara, My wife died three years ago, and I keep the television on from the moment I wake until I fall asleep. I do not watch it. I let presenters, actors, and advertisements speak into the rooms so the house will not reveal how empty it is. Last week, the television broke. I lasted one evening before taking it to a repair shop I could not afford. The young man asked whether I wanted to replace it with a cheaper model. I said no because the old one has voices I recognise. That is nonsense, of course. The voices come from the programmes, not the machine. Still, grief makes objects into colleagues. My children call weekly. Neighbours wave. I attend church twice a month. None of it changes the hours between dinner and sleep when no one says my name. Tonight, the repaired television is showing a cooking programme. A woman keeps telling someone to add salt. I am sitting in the dark listening as though she is speaking to me. Loneliness is not always having nobody. Sometimes it is needing strangers on a screen to create the illusion that another person is moving around the house.