I was asked to evaluate 90-year-old George, a handsome, distinguished-looking gentleman with a full head of white hair. The hospital nurses thought he might be suicidal because he wondered aloud, "What's the point of going on?" You see, it had been three years since George's wife died and, after 62 years of marriage, he was struggling with the promise of another holiday season alone. By his own admission, George wasn't really suicidal. He was "lonesome."