Here’s the public service part of this blog, the part I toyed with putting in Wish You Were Here, but didn’t because, well, it didn’t fit. Too practical.
But really, it’s a part of the process, the event, the experience. It was undercurrent throughout.
In short:
Do you guys have wills?
It’s on my mind because today I signed the second iteration of my will (and other pertinent docs) since Mike died, this one made necessary by the changes my father’s death brought into my life. I took one of my older sons with me so the attorney could explain the documents to him, since he’s the executor.
So I repeat:
Do you guys have wills?
I’ll admit it to you: we didn’t.
(Or, by the way, life insurance beyond something small through work. You should have that, too.)
(And passwords. Are you adult children of elderly parents? Do they do finances online of any kind? Do you know where their passwords are? My dad had a well-worn memo notebook next to his computer, full of his banking, credit card, investment passwords…invaluable.)
At one point in the process after Mike’s death, I expressed my embarrassment about that sad fact - no wills – to my attorney. Two presumably intelligent people, with five university degrees between them, and no will? Stupid.
The attorney didn’t disagree, but he did reassure me. He knew a married couple, he said, both tax attorneys. The husband died, leaving the wife with three young children and a surprisingly complicated estate. And they didn’t have wills, either, he said.
Sometimes the shoemaker’s children go without shoes, he said.
I know, I know, but still..stupid.
Here’s the thing. Death is complicated. It doesn’t matter how much you have, it’s a complicated process. A will makes it just a bit less complicated – or a lot.
We held most of our property in common, and I was the designated beneficiary of all retirement accounts, but there were a couple of sticky points: minor children and book contracts.
Because of these factors, and because there was no will…things took a while. In regard to the latter, it’s because, gee, you can’t just say, “Hey, I was married to him, those contracts and royalties are mine now.” Not the way it works, and the way it worked in this case took a surprisingly long time – nothing huge, just a slow process, for reasons I was never quite sure of.
My father had a will, of course, so there were no surprises, and the estate was fairly simple. But we’re still working on some loose ends almost eight months later. I can’t even imagine what it would have been like without a will.
And so today? I signed several documents that will, I hope, result in a streamlined process when I die or if I become incapacitated.
Is it morbid? I don’t even know what that means, do you? Taking seriously the reality of death and the possibility of incapacitation is not “morbid” for anyone, especially for a 51-year old single mother of two minor children. Stuff happens. We know that, right? I’ve learned the hard way that it’s not morbid to plan – it’s loving. I want things to be as simple as possible for my kids when I die or if I suffer a lengthy illness or debilitating condition. I can’t pretend it just won’t happen…because it just might.
Just a couple of days ago, we were driving in the car somewhere, and Michael asked, “Will you still be alive when I’m Joseph’s age?”
My first instinct was, as it would be for most of you, I’m sure, to laugh a bit and say, “Of course!” And to wonder where that came from.
But then I realized where it came from – when Joseph was Joseph’s age - right now – he’d had a parent die.
The boy had done the math.
So what did I say? I’m not sure. I’m pretty sure I said, “I hope so” or “I don’t see why not.” I mean – how could I say, “Of course?” He’d see right through it, and who knows – he might even say something.
It’s just the truth. You never know.
And honestly? I’m still superstitious enough (I admit) to believe or hope that if I am, indeed, super-prepared, with all the blocks in place…that’s another kind of insurance, right there.
Do you guys have wills?
Thanks for asking. We keep saying….
Oh yes, I have a will – and a living will – and a durable power of attorney for health care – because if you are prepared enough, it MIGHT be easier, should you leave minor orphans behind. Now I have cancer too, so I don’t think these are insurance against bad things happening, just a cushion for the fall.
Devereaux actually had a will – less than 6 months old and on top of the files in the business records safe – when he died from a riding accident. I bless his guardian angel and mine for the conversation that led to that, on a regular basis. We also had the contracts/royalties/commitments thing, though not to the extent you and Michael did. I can’t imagine sorting through those without a will.
thanks for the reminder that i need to get my living will notarized. i had written one as a college assignment and had it printed out and signed but not on file with the hospital. then 8 years later, i went severely pre-eclamptic and all of a sudden, it became necessary.
i need to do a will as well.
Bless you, Amy. Thanks for the reminder. I agree that there’s nothing more natural – and inevitable – in life than dying, and we can’t alter that fact by ignoring it. My husband and I do have wills but the lawyer who prepared ours told us that she and her husband didn’t have their own wills. You touch on another important point: it’s important to update wills when life circumstances change. My dad left a similar passwords notebook near his computer, but I don’t have one so thanks for the reminder. My children (or husband) will be grateful if I pull that together.
Thanks for the reminder about passwords. I gave my son, who is my executor, one password, the one I felt he would need. But now that you mention it, there are other passwords he should have as well.
For ourselves (age 65 and 55), nope, not yet. We always joke that we don’t have much, so why bother, but if you are paying a mortgage and have autos/insurance/any kind of money in a bank, you’re right, ya gotta do it.
My husband has a real aversion to discussing death or dealing with it. After the death of each of his parents, they were cremated/no service at all (at their request btw), they claimed they didn’t care what happened to their cremated remains. I was against scattering (! ugh) and my husband didn’t want to make a decision about anything, so for almost 20 years, they were in our hall closet — even though they had left us enough money to bury them anywhere. I worked at a mortuary/cemetery in Los Angeles and got us a discounted 4-person niche. Still my husband wouldn’t bury them. Finally, last year, he did it.
Maybe all baby boomers have a certain aversion to discussing death.
Me, I made my first will when I was 12 (after I read Little Women — the first time I was introduced to the idea). I revised it when I married my husband since I was the one who always had a bank account. It’s the only will I have and certainly doesn’t reflect my current life …our current life.
Re: passwords — I have three different IDs and everyone in the family knows my password. My husband has his IDs and passwords written on an envelope in our address book (he can never remember anything, so needs it every day when he logs onto various accounts/websites).
Good reminder — and thanks for your honesty, Amy.
We got wills about 4 yrs ago and I felt a little superstitious thinking that now that we had wills it might be a bad omen. After all, we’d lived a long time without them. What i think we need to do next is talk about where we want to be buried or if cremated, all that jazz.
You are so right about how long it takes to sort things out…even with a will.
We didn’t have one for years. After 9/11 – and helping my aunt sorting through their situation after my uncle was killed in the WTC blast (without a will) – we took care of it. But – good point that I’m not even sure my husband, let alone my daughter, would know necessary passwords.