Today I am going to talk about something that most people don’t and won’t talk about. I am talking about death. A lot of people my age are having knee replacements and hip replacements. They have annual “wellness” checkups and regular screenings for cancer; and they have pill boxes filled with their daily dose of pharmaceuticals.They will admit that they are getting older, but they do not believe that they will one day die.
In our ever more complicated world, it is now advisable to put one’s “affairs in order.” Dying is our final investment in life regardless of how much money we did or did not make during our lifetime. There is legal jargon that I am only beginning to comprehend – like probate. For some reason, when a person dies, family members can be locked out of the deceased’s home and denied access to their estate for months, until the courts have decided where and to whom any of their earthly possessions will go. Simply making a handwritten will does not suffice. You must put your things into a “trust” and I am still trying to wrap my head around the difference between that, and a will. You must have a power of attorney, known as a POA, to manage your finances. You must have another POA to manage your medical directives should you become incapacitated. Their power only extends; however, until the moment of your actual death. After that you must have an executor to manage your affairs. Quite often, this also requires an attorney whose fees are astronomical. You must make plans for the disposal of your physical form, be it burial, cremation, or composting. These choices are all expensive and are usually paid for in advance, or by a life insurance company, but only if the deceased bothered to buy a policy.
Every state has different laws about whether or not you can be buried on your own land. Gone are the days when a loved one died, you simply dug a hole, dropped them in and went on with your own life. We now require death certificates to accompany our birth certificates, which are stashed away somewhere in someone else’s desk drawer. Presumably, the day will come when these documents which represent that we lived and died, will all be in digital format. This business of dying seems to me like a whole lot of trouble – nearly as much work as it was to be born. It would be far easier in my estimation, to be run over by an automobile, like a oppossum, and tossed to the side of the road for the vultures to dispose of.
