I am a person who doesn’t like change.

In our fast-changing world, that’s not a good way to be, I guess - but it’s the way I am. Usually, I don’t think about the subject much, but this past weekend, three things happened that put the focus on change and got my attention.

A friend in New Jersey told me she is selling her home and car and moving to a continuing-care retirement community.

Another friend, who, for financial reasons, had moved to a senior high-rise apartment and hated his new living arrangements, died.

And a niece, born, raised and educated here, is packing up, selling her home and moving to Florida.

As one who is cautious and deliberate about the decisions I make, I can’t help but question the wisdom of some of these moves.

The friend who moved from our neighborhood to the rent-subsidized apartment building because he no longer could afford his apartment after his wife died, told me repeatedly he had made a mistake.

He wished he had remained in the neighborhood, he said, and described his new residence as “a big hotel for old people.” He admitted he had made a hasty decision and implored me to think carefully before making any major moves.

My friend in Jersey, whom I have known for 50 years, has lived near the shore for most of her life. She is in great health and remains physically, mentally and socially active. She teaches water aerobics, enjoys gardening, participates in golf and bowling leagues, plays cards weekly, sews and bakes for charity in several women’s groups she belongs to and is totally vibrant.

When she was widowed a year ago, she said her sons talked to her about moving into a continuing-care senior community, where all her needs would be met as she aged.

“I’m not ready,” she told me then.

Her sons persisted, taking her to visit several communities, and now she is moving inland, away from her friends and the many activities that fill her life.

She sounded upbeat when she phoned to tell me the big news.

“I’ll make new friends and play boccie instead of bowling and use the bus service instead of my car,” she explained.

I tried to match her enthusiastic tone, but secretly I felt sad.

As one who loves to cook and bake, she will now have only a small galley kitchen. She justified her initial disappointment with the kitchen by telling me her main meal each day will be included in the fees. Will she miss cooking?

When I was widowed and joined a grief support group, one of the first pieces of advice we were given was not to make any major decisions or moves for at least a year. Few people can think rationally after such a loss.

Two retired sisters I know who had sold their home and moved to Florida less than two years ago are now back. Trying to escape our winters, the women were seduced by Florida’s sunshine during their vacations down south. But actually living in Florida year-round was a different story, and they soon missed the familiar: medical services, family, friends, church, restaurants, stores and even the change of seasons. What initially had seemed like paradise proved to be a poor choice for the sisters.

According to retirement research, this happens more often than we think. After a few months in the new setting, some folks feel isolated from the connections that fulfilled their lives back home. Homesick, many return.

Life needs to have meaning for us to be happy. If we feel lonely or like outcasts in our adopted home, we cannot have a rewarding rest-of-life experience.

Careful planning is the key. We need to know ourselves. There is no one-size-fits-all prescription for retirement bliss.

Some people thrive on novelty and adventure. Others need and want the familiar. I am in that latter group. Give me the familiar, but with a generous sprinkling of adventure and stimulation.

In the end, it’s true - home is where the heart is.