Will Power
After A died, I got very serious, maybe a little manic, about getting my affairs in order. I always knew any of us could go any time, but his sudden death made me understand it on a visceral level, and "I’ll do it later" no longer washed. His sister had told me of her trials trying to get A’s business sorted out; A was not the most organized of businessmen, by his own admission. The entire time I knew him, he intended to get his shop cleaned up and totally organized. He’d make efforts here and there, but never quite finished the job because there was real work that needed to be done. It became a bit of a running joke, and I have teased him posthumously for having gotten out of it. That, and jury duty, though he chose a helluva way to go about it.
Additionally, I found myself wishing over and over again he’d written a note and stashed it somewhere someone could find it regarding me, and the things he wanted to go to me. I didn’t get anything of his, and I didn’t get anything of mine that he was borrowing back. No one even asked. And if there were things I wanted to go to specific people, I wanted to get it written down so that no one did that to anyone I loved once I was gone. Of course, there’s nothing but their own consciences to compel them to honor my wishes, but at least I will have tried.
A month or so after A died, I bought a workbook about getting your affairs in order. I did pretty well working through it, writing down information about bills and assets and people to contact. What remained was to get a will written. I talked to E about doing it, but he balked. He’s good about financial planning, but doesn’t like to talk about estate planning. I remind him that not talking about death will not prevent it; I didn’t like to talk about it with A, either, and you see how well that worked for me. Granted, this is a community property state, and as we are childless, it’s probably not a high priority. But I don’t want there to be any question about anything, or for it to have to go into probate.
I didn’t have to, or get to, deal with any of this stuff for A; his family did it all. I would’ve helped, and offered to, and wanted to, but was left out of it. That said, it was a wake-up call of just what a mess it is for those left behind to try to sort everything out if you’ve made no effort to do it yourself. A kept everything in his head, so he knew what was what, but he took that information with him when he passed. I didn’t want E to have to deal with that if something happened to me. I pay all the bills, and he barely knows where I keep the checkbook. That’s not good. The stories I read at the widow board regarding people who meant to get life insurance, change beneficiaries on old policies, change deeds and ownership papers, but hadn’t gotten around to it only reinforced for me the importance of making things as easy as possible on those left behind. Dealing with a mess when you’re falling apart is not what anyone wants to do, and it’s not necessary. E doesn’t know exactly how much that kind of loss takes out of you, other than how he saw it affect me. He misses me terribly when I’m out of town for a day; I don’t think it’s egotistical to think that my being dead is going to take him down for a long while, but I suppose I could be wrong. He also doesn’t realize that as much of a basket case as he saw, I protected him as much as I could; he didn’t see it all. I do know how bad it is, and like everything else in this journey, I am trying to learn the lessons of all this and put them to use, to give A’s death meaning, to get something useful out of a tragedy, at least for me.
It became clear in time that if I waited for him to be ready to write a will, we’d never get it done, so I bought some will-making software, installed it, and then we promptly had several months of computer and network problems. So it happened that my good start 1 month out had become 23 months and still no will written.
It’s been on my to-do list in earnest for the last few weeks. I sat down last night finally to do it, and you know, it wasn’t so bad. I clarified with E what our major plans were in regards to the disposition of our stuff, and then I went to work. It was, in an odd sort of way, kind of fun to make the bequests, to think about what I had, personally, that I wanted to give to my most beloved family and friends to remember me by. I still have to talk to my brother about being a back-up executor, and get the thing witnessed and notarized, but the main work is done, and I feel better for it. It had been hanging over my head, and now I feel like my affairs are largely in order so that if I die, no one will have to be turning the house inside-out looking for important papers and such. I also completed a Durable Power of Attorney document, and worked on my final wishes, which is done but for my obituary, which I thought I wanted to write myself and now think I don’t care to. And I need to finish the "Funeral Mix" CD that I’ve been slowly compiling over the last 2 years to be played at my service. I don’t give a damn about the obit, but there will be good music, dammit! All this stuff and a letter of explanation will go into the workbook, and I’ll make its location known, and then I’ll be done for the time being with mine. I’ll review it from time to time as the years pass, updating it as circumstances change.
The software I used allows you to make an identical one for a spouse, with certain changes, so I started his, too. All I’m waiting is his list of specific bequests of his stuff for his dearest friends and family, which I’m sure I’ll have to ask him 10 times for. The lightning struck close to him, but it didn’t strike him, and so he still keeps death at an illusory distance, like all the uninitiated do. Not me; I can still smell the fire and see the scorch marks on my soul where the bolt hit me. I can never again engage in that kind of denial of inevitability.
For years, my mother has been telling me where she and my dad keep their wills and important papers, and for years I’ve told her I didn’t want to talk about that. But now I appreciate their efforts, and understand why they’ve done so. It really is a kindness to those left behind, and I think they’ll thank us for it. If nothing else, it gives me peace of mind.