The first-person plural

A dear friend visited us in May, the first time Sandy and I had seen him in years. I didn't know much about his personal life these days, but after about an hour's conversation, I recognized a pattern. "You're speaking in the we," I said."That's new."

It was new to us, but he'd been living with this woman for several years, and they were now engaged. I enjoyed hearing about his partner and look forward to meeting her. But what mainly stuck with me was how we communicate relationship/family/group status without even thinking about it.

December 2001, Mt. Rainier

I was aware when I began speaking in the we, early in my relationship with Sandy. I would catch myself, self-conscious, worried that it somehow compromised my independence. Over time, I let go of my resistance, because the first-person plural was simply the most accurate, most honest, way to describe events, plans, or habits in my life. For example, "we're behind in the garden," or "we're overdue for a vacation," "our house," "our cats," "our nieces and nephews." My work was mine, as was my office; she had her own room in the house, too, and her own jobs. Some friends were hers or mine, others were ours; sometimes the same person shifted from one to the other depending on context. I hadn't given the pronouns much thought since sometime in the late 90's. They just flowed naturally.

And then she died. Legally, everything that was hers or ours became mine. All of our plans and habits became mine alone. The house, the garden, the cats, travel plans, finances - all mine. But the first-person singular was foreign to me. In early August, for example, I told a friend, "We were lucky the water main burst further down the street, so they didn't dig up our planting strip." Sandy had been dead two weeks before the water main burst. But she planted most of what's in the planting strip; she had the greater investment there. It would have been wrong to say that I was lucky that they didn't have to dig up my planting strip. But it was inaccurate to say that we were lucky - and I pondered whether I was being honest.

For weeks, I tripped over the pronouns, self-conscious about the implication that she was alive, afraid people would think I was in denial or just plain crazy. But I didn't want to erase her, didn't want to feel like I suddenly lived alone, didn't want to ignore her part in whatever habit or plan I described. I found conversation awkward, as I'd think about who I was talking to and how they'd react to one pronoun or another.

Finally, a month or so ago, I stopped worrying about it. Now, sometimes I speak in the we; sometimes I speak in the I; sometimes I refer to the house, so I don't have to choose a pronoun. I let my speech reflect my reality of the moment, which may or may not be the same as the general reality that the world recognizes. I simply speak my truth.