December is often portrayed as a season of togetherness, with windows glowing, families gathering, and a month steeped in social rituals. But for many older Canadians, the winter holidays are a particularly lonely time. And loneliness, despite its quietness, is not benign. It can distort judgment, shrink a person’s world, and trap them in patterns of vulnerability that the law tends to overlook.
Loneliness is more than being alone; it is a painful emotional state, an unmet longing for connection. When chronic, loneliness fuels a paradoxical cycle: people want meaningful relationships, yet become more likely to withdraw, misread social cues, and even reject help. For older men especially, who already tend to seek help less often and may guard their independence fiercely, loneliness becomes an internal constraint, shaping choices in subtle ways that can be misunderstood by others as purely autonomous.
During the holidays, these patterns often intensify. Many community programs pause, neighbours travel, and the absence of relatives becomes more evident. A man who lost his spouse years ago may sit in an empty living room, growing frailer, and turn down home care visits, not necessarily because he truly wants to “live at risk” but because loneliness has altered how he experiences offers of support. His refusal looks autonomous on paper, yet the reality is more complicated.
The “right to live at risk” is rooted in the belief that capable adults have the right to make unwise choices, and that, for dignity’s sake, we should let them. While this principle is important, it can unintentionally overshadow the effects of loneliness and leave some needs unmet.
When loneliness takes hold, declining support can become a way of clinging to the last pieces of control, even when the refusal leaves the person isolated and at risk. Sometimes, saying no is a coping mechanism, a way to protect oneself from the fear of rejection or further emotional pain.
The consequences of rigidly interpreted autonomy are most evident in avoidable emergencies. In the build-up, a lonely senior’s suffering may go unaddressed because of their asserted right to refuse, with insufficient attention to how emotional isolation can compromise their actual choice.
This is not to suggest that authorities should override every refusal. There is room within existing legal frameworks to respond with sensitivity and thoughtful compassion. We can support, rather than displace, a capable older adult’s autonomy by recognizing when a refusal is shaped by loneliness rather than by true preference. With the right approach, services can be offered in ways that strengthen connection and prevent the slide toward crisis. This means tempering slogans about the “right to live at risk” with practical, relationship-based supports that help seniors age safely and with dignity.
At this time of year, it’s important to remember that dignity is not just about independence; it’s also about belonging. Without it, the language of rights can mask neglect, leaving older adults isolated under the guise of autonomy. We need to recognize not just the right to choose but also the supports that allow lonely seniors to make choices with genuine agency and meaningful connection, so they can make decisions without loneliness dictating their lives.
Heather Campbell Pope is founder of Dementia Justice Canada, a small nonprofit dedicated to safeguarding the rights and dignity of people with dementia.
