I posted a similar thing a year ago, and friends who have been through non-death but still yucky seasons of life, like a long illness or a divorce, told me that many of these suggestions can be adapted for things besides sudden widowhood. And with my family's sudden sad reminder earlier this week that life is short and tends to take a turn exactly when we're not expecting it, I decided this was worth updating and posting again.
However, I do hate writing this only days after children were murdered. My heart breaks as we grieve with the parents currently living their worst nightmare. The somewhat lighthearted nature of this post is not intended as disrespect, as I wish that we lived in a world where no parent need ever bury a child, whether by illness or accident or calculated intent. Indeed, my suggestions are 100% meant for adults, and if I sound flippant, it's only because death comes to us all and I'm still trying to get used to the idea.
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| Source: St. Mattox on freeimages.com. |
I don't really know how one finds a Keely, since mine just kind of turned up one day and she's been stuck with me ever since. Basically, no one should be going through life without their own Keely anyway, nor should anyone go through life without being a Keely. (I'm doing my best. I don't know how she does it. She has magical powers.) With apologies to Aaron Sorkin, here's the best way I can think of to find your Keely: Do you have a best friend? Is she smarter than you? Do you trust her with your life? Will she jump in between you and any needlessly irritating folks?
Find your Keely now, so that you can bank lots of good times together before a crisis arises.
You're not going to be ready for the stupid stuff people say.
Unfortunately, my cousins are having to experience this right now. And it was my turn to be on the other side of the coin: your experience with tragedy will not stop you from saying stupid stuff in your turn to the next person. It's part of being human, so unless the current goofball has a history of being thoughtless/causing trouble/etc., and as long as they don't repeat the ugliness over and over, chalk it up to temporary idiocy and let it go. If it's either of those first two things, though, it's okay to reduce or cut off altogether the time you spend with them. Don't be a martyr to someone else's stupidity.
Dying is expensive.
Your bank account is going to take a ding. It's a bummer, but it's true--if you haven't started paying for a funeral, burial plot, etc., there's no getting out of it now. I managed a funeral on the cheap, so it can be done, but you'll still have to shell out some cash. Even for younger and/or childless folks, consider a small life insurance policy just to cover final expenses should the worst happen. (If you have children, you should already have a policy.) Also, that bill you get for the final ambulance ride/ER trip/DOS pronouncement is going to be the worst bill of your life.
Your credit score will likely fluctuate as well when you change all your joint accounts to individual ones--it's been three years and I've only just gotten my credit back to where it was before. This will be all the more true if you, like me, had little to no credit of your own before.
Single and with no one else to consider? If you don't want to buy life insurance, at least sock some cash away somewhere in a just-in-case fund, to help out your family if something goes horribly wrong.
Married folks need to be sure both names are on every account. Unmarried folks need to name an authorized representative.
It never occurred to us that by letting Chadwick take care of all our bills, we were effectively locking me out of all our accounts. I had to send death certificates to everyone just to get anyone to talk to me. (Special shoutout to City of Austin utilities and Bank of America, who were much more kind and sympathetic than, for instance, Verizon.)
Married, life partner, long-term relationship, whatever--make sure that if something happens to you, the person you trust with your life and things can continue taking care of your business. In fact, if you have a friend or next of kin who you trust, having a third authorized person on the account who might be slightly more clear-headed for speaking to your rubbish collector might be something to consider. Also, this seems as good a place as any to point out that you'll have some extra paperwork to do at tax time for a couple years. (Death and taxes, though--the IRS has customer service folks who are great at this. Call them. They're incredibly helpful.)
If you don't have someone you're sharing your life with, pick a next of kin, trusted friend, whatever--someone who is capable and trustworthy for closing out your accounts.
Similarly, share your passwords. To everything.
I mean, if you don't already have access to each other's accounts anyway, that's probably something you should talk about. I'm all for respecting each other's space, but to keep passwords secret is to invite some problems in. However! The real point here is that if you're felled by serious injury, hospitalization, or worse, your spouse will probably need to get into your computer sooner or later. Make sure passwords are stored somewhere everyone can get them.
My sister knows the password to my computer, but sooner or later I should write them down somewhere for whoever is the first one who has to get into my electronics. I don't really have a good solution for this yet. I'm sure someone does. (One of my baby cousins knows my phone pin, because I let her play with my phone at every family get-together. I doubt anyone will think to ask her.)
Any special instructions/bequests need to be written down.
I'm lucky enough not to have had interfering relatives on either side of the family. (Of course, they were all far away, so...) But if you think there may be a relative, friend, neighbor, etc. who will muscle in at the worst possible time to claim Great-Aunt Myrtle's antique vase as his or her own, make sure your partner has some ammunition to fight back. People as young as I am may not want to go to the bother and expense of writing a formal will (unless you have a condition that you know will shorten your time on this earth), but at least write some stuff down.
Know your rights.
I can't speak to separated or blended families, couples of different nationalities, same-sex couples, common-law marriages, or others that are outside my experience, so I urge you: do your research for your particular situation and make sure all your bases are covered. Y'all may be in need of legal documents that I didn't necessarily have to have.
If you have any ideas for a final send-off, it's never too early to say so.
The only things Chadwick and I talked about ahead of time were donating organs and planting trees with our ashes. The first one obviously had to be dealt with right away, but I still haven't planted a tree. I don't know when that's going to happen, so in the meantime, I keep the ashes put away somewhere that visitors aren't likely to see it and ask, "What's that box?" Because there's no good way out of that conversation.
You're not going to be ready for the outpouring of kindness.
Tell the first person who asks, "What can I do?" to bring over some tissues. You're going to need them for more than just the obvious reasons. Humans can rise to amazing heights when called to it. Be willing to let people do things for you that you can't do for yourself.
This is a time when it's okay for it to be all about you.
People who bring you down, people who insist on telling you what you're doing wrong, people who refuse to respect your boundaries--these are people you can do without right now. It's okay to banish them for a while and then only let them back in when you're ready. Recruit some folks to run interference, if necessary. This is a great job for your Keely.
Get things written down, prepared, put away, and then let it go. One less thing to worry about.
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