Me, Me, My, My, I

                        For My Brother, Jay, With Love

I try to believe that my life (and I do mean MY life) is not always about me. However, to hear my brother tell it, that’s a lie! I’m all about me! Oh my goodness! Maybe he’s right! After all, this is my blog, my creation, my time, my thoughts, my computer, my study, and my house. I am doing “my thing” right now, but I’m doing it for one reason: to appease my brother, and I do mean MY brother. It’s my choice though!

Jay (my brother) is a wonderful man. He is smart, articulate, artistic, talented, and always ready for a good conversation even if it takes three glasses of wine and the stroke of midnight to get through. I just spent five days with Jay and MY sister-in-law (as opposed to his wife) in North Carolina. Although our reunion was for a sad reason, the death of MY father (also my brother’s) who was four days short of being 103, it gave us the opportunity to be together, to cry, to hug, to laugh, and to talk and communicate. (There’s a difference.)

In the midst of one conversation, my brother suddenly blurted, “Why do you always say MY dad?”

“Oh,” I corrected, “OUR dad. I guess he belongs to both of us.” I smiled, a sweet, “you got me” smirk, and figured I was off the hook. Not!

“It doesn’t even have to be ‘our’,” he pressed. “What about just ‘Dad’?”

Oh! I had never truly considered that. When I speak to my friends in California about my daddy, I use the possessive pronoun ‘my’. They need to know I’m referring not to any, old dad, but to the remarkable, grumpy, and giving, old guy that I have claimed as my own for a good, long while. Otherwise, wouldn’t they be confused? They have Dads too. In the home of my brother, though, (also, his home) I will credit him for being correct. Perhaps it is much more considerate, and accurate, to dump a possessive pronoun altogether. Wait, though. What happens when his kids arrive and call out, “Dad! Dad?” Are they talking about my dad, or their dad? It has to be their dad; my dad is their granddad, their dad’s dad, and also MY dad. There’s definitely a difference, so maybe the odd or selfish attempt for clarity isn’t so bad after all. AND, my brother’s point is very well taken.

Rest in peace, Dad. Your family, every one of us, possesses that sentiment.

Jay and Judi, brother and sister, February 24, 2014, Wilmington, NC