Practical tips, advice and hope for those who live alone
By Gwenn Voelckers
A few months ago, I was walking with my friend Kate — something we do almost every week — when it struck me: she had become more than a friend; she had become family.
We weren’t talking about anything especially momentous that day — probably aches and pains, something funny a grandchild did, a small frustration or a twist in the audiobook we were both listening to.
Nothing was off-limits, conversation flowed easily, and trust was a given.
With Kate, the door is wide open. We challenge each other. We laugh a lot. We’re not afraid to be vulnerable. And when we inevitably misunderstand each other — because that happens in any real relationship — we sort it out, apologize, forgive, forget … and then laugh about it later.
Kate is one of my safe places. She’s family.
Over the years, I’ve come to understand that living alone with success doesn’t mean living without connection. It means broadening our idea of what family looks like — and allowing ourselves to build or expand our family with intention.
When Families Change
Most of us grow up thinking of family as a fixed entity. That was definitely my impression. I assumed my relationships with my parents and siblings were permanent and would always be there in the same way.
But life happens.
Divorce. The death of a spouse. Physical distance. Long-standing tensions. Any one of these can change family relationships — and sometimes change them for good. And when you find yourself living alone in midlife or later, those changes can become especially challenging.
I’ve experienced shifts in my own family relationships — some difficult — which prompted me to deepen and grow my existing circle of friendship. Not as a replacement for my family, but as an expansion.
That’s when the idea of a family of friends really took hold in my life.
What Makes a Family of Friends
For me, a family of friends is all about belonging.
It’s the friend who checks in when you’ve gone MIA. The one who knows when to share advice and when to just listen. The person who remembers your birthday and also recalls the difficult “anniversaries,” like the loss of a parent. It’s also the friend who likes to celebrate the small wins and little moments that matter.
These chosen relationships are intentional. They’re nurtured. And they don’t exist out of obligation or family ties. They are born of genuine affection.
And for those of us living alone, this can mean the difference between an empty existence and a life full of meaningful connections.
Building a Chosen Family
When you live by yourself, connections don’t just happen — you have to make them happen.
It might start with a walking buddy. A book group. A volunteer shift. A pickleball game. A neighbor you see regularly. The activity isn’t what matters — it’s the consistency. Showing up again and again builds familiarity. Familiarity paves the way for friendships.
Openness helps, too (though it doesn’t have to be all at once). Share a little about yourself. Listen with attention. And notice who listens in return. Friendships, like trust, grow over time.
And small gestures go a long way: a thoughtful text, a shared photo, a silly gift, a thinking-of-you note. These are the quiet ways relationships deepen.
Kate and I didn’t set out to become family. We just kept showing up for each other. Week after week. Conversation after conversation.
When Friends Step Up
Friends really do come to the rescue
A close acquaintance of mine — newly widowed — often talked about how lonely he felt in the evenings. His adult children lived far away. What changed his life for the better wasn’t one big gesture, but a handful of friends who invited him out to have a beer, walk their dogs or go to the gym.
Over time, those invitations became routine. “They didn’t replace my family,” he shared, “they became part of it.”
Another friend endured an estrangement from a sibling after a disagreement over an inheritance. The loss was deeply painful. What helped her through was her close-knit circle of friends who listened without judgment or unsolicited advice.
“My friends just loved and supported me. And kept pouring the wine!” she said with a smile. That felt like family to her.
Chose Belonging
Early on, I found that building a family of friends takes some courage. It means reaching out. Letting yourself be known. And knowing that you might risk disappointment … like the time I befriended someone who never asked me a single question about myself.
But it also brings a sense of freedom.
You get to choose how to spend time and with whom. You have the freedom to connect with people who share your interests, your values and your humor. People who respect your independence. And people who enjoy who you are now, today — not the one you once were.
And maybe, most importantly, you get to feel seen — and welcomed — just as you are.
A Final Thought
A family of friends isn’t lesser than the family you’re born into. It’s just different.
If you’re living alone and longing for more connection, know this: it’s not too late. You can build meaningful new relationships on your own when the time feels right.
Chosen bonds can be just as real, just as enriching, and just as sacred as traditional family ties. When you build them with intention and warmth, they can fill your life — and your home — with belonging.
Sometimes, the family that fits best is the one you choose.
Gwenn Voelckers is a certified life coach (CLC), columnist and author of “Alone and Content,” a collection of inspiring essays for those who live alone. She welcomes your comments, questions, and inquiries at gvoelckers@rochester.rr.com