From OUR to MY

During the Holidays, I jokingly told my coworkers that I couldn’t host a party because a bachelor had moved into my house. At the risk of perpetuating gender roles, what I really meant was that my house was in no condition to host guests because I hadn’t kept it as clean as Sami and I generally did together. To be fair (to myself), this reflected a loss of the division of labor we enjoyed during our marriage! And also to be fair (to both of us), neither Sami nor I were ever great housekeepers! But since Sami’s passing, I’ve also realized that I’ve become uncertain about when to use the words “we,” “our,” and “us” versus “I,” “my,” and “me.”

As a married couple, Sami and I both had possessions and activities that were our own, as well as possessions and activities that were ours together. I drove MY truck to check on MY sheep. Sami hauled HER mule in HER horse trailer. I took MY rifle to go hunting, hoping for venison to fill OUR freezer. Sami used HER power tools to make repairs in OUR barn. But the house was OURS - the place where we raised OUR daughters. I took care of OUR yard; Sami did OUR grocery shopping.

Since August, though, I’ve struggled with whether I should say, “I’m going to visit our (or my) daughter,” or “We’re (I’m) so proud of Emma and Lara.” Should I say “our” mules? Or “my” mules? After 33 years of “we,” I find that saying “I” is difficult.

Some things now, obviously, are purely mine - MY laundry, MY garbage, MY shopping list. Some of these had been mine even before Sami got sick - for example, when Emma left for college, I started doing my own laundry (I think Sami was happy not to mix my sheepy-smelling clothes with hers). Some became purely mine as the only person in the house - I generate half of the garbage that we generated before. Some I’m learning how to do - shopping for one is much different than shopping for two.

But most of what’s important to me remains OURS. Lara and Emma will always be OUR daughters. The people who have been so supportive throughout this process will always be OUR friends (even if they were originally Sami’s friends, or mine). The house I’m sitting in as I write this is OUR house, filled with OUR furniture. And with OUR memories.

This realization makes my decision to sell this house and move closer to MY family difficult in some ways. The house I move to will be MINE (our perhaps OURS - I find myself considering how Lara and Emma will like the homes I’ve looked at, but that’s a slightly different OURS). For my daughters, I’m sure, it will be difficult not to come home to the house in which they grew up. As much as we say home is not so much a physical structure as a place in our hearts, not returning to their own rooms will be hard.

Finally, even though OURS, US, and WE is still in my vocabulary, I stumble on these words. They remind me that I’m on my own now. They remind me that while I’ll always be Sami’s husband, and Lara and Emma’s dad, that I’m also someone different now. I’ve always been ME, but for 35 years, I was also US.