After my husband died 19 months ago, I thought I might write a book on living single in a couples’ world. Wanting to use my own experience and that of others, I have interviewed dozens of widows and widowers. The word most often used by everyone I spoke to was “loneliness.” What that word really means is that no one knows what they do, think, read, where they go, nor whom they meet, and, not only that, no one really cares. Some people have a child who calls everyday. That helps. Or there is a close friend who is involved. Living in a retirement community also helps, as one never needs to eat alone. But it is difficult to find a new old friend. This leads me to a different concept, that of a witness. A witness to your life is that person who sees you brushing your teeth, watches whether you’ve taken your medication, hears you talking on the phone and knows what you plan to do every day. A witness is usually the companion to your life and an active participant in it. That can be whomever you are living with — mate, child or friend. A witness can also be someone you talk to every day and with whom you share the minutiae of your daily life: what you had for dinner, the latest article you read, the movie you saw, the friend you bumped into. Someone truly interested in your whereabouts — the way we were interested in the daily doings of our children when they were small. As far as I know, “witness” in this context was first used by Susan Sarandon’s character in the 2004 movie “Shall We Dance.” We need a witness to our lives. There are a billion people on the planet. I mean, what does any one life really mean? In a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things — all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying, “Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness.” Becoming aware of the meaning of “witness” could help in defining the nature of one’s loss and the subsequent need for a replacement, even if only a partial one. Or, on the contrary, it could help identify what one must do without. Not everyone longs for a witness. A few men and some women I talked to felt at peace with no one close to them. These were either people who never experienced nor wished for much intimacy, or their loss was so many years ago that they have adjusted to being alone. In wondering who might need a witness and who might not, I thought of affiliation needs. These are genetically programmed. Think of children going into a kindergarten class. One may run to a group and join in the activity, and another may go off by him or herself and prefer to play alone. These propensities usually remain throughout a lifetime. So I am guessing that people with high affiliation needs, when becoming a widow or widower, would suffer more from a lack of a witness than someone with low affiliation needs. However, not all witnesses fulfill their role well. There are indifferent spouses who notice nothing and don’t communicate, each partner living their life next to, but not with, the other. This may suit people with low affiliation needs. Then there is the spouse who is always critical or even abusive, and even though he or she is a witness, it is a dysfunctional relationship. Although one may be better off without such a person, there are many who remain in such dyads, afraid to leave it, preferring to be a victim than to be alone. It would not be a bad idea for engaged couples to ask each other about their affiliation needs. It would reduce a lot of unmet expectations between one spouse who needs a lot of togetherness and the other who needs space and time alone. Understanding these different needs would allow for negotiation and compromise. I wonder whether living in today’s often alienated world people feel isolated and keep texting each other and constantly updating their whereabouts on Facebook and Twitter in order to have a witness to their lives. For those who are lonely and are wishing for a witness, be proactive on your own behalf. I have sought out friends I could telephone in the evening when I get home to an empty and silent apartment. I keep my computer work for those hours too. I accept invitations to go out and reciprocate as often as I can. I have joined organizations that meet regularly, I do volunteer work and I ask friends to watch movies with me in my home. I’m inviting readers to write me in care of this paper (at [email protected]) with comments and suggestions. This is a work in progress.