Thinking About the Unthinkable

Papa Meyer schmoozing Miss Kate, my niece.

My family and I are quickly approaching the one year anniversary of my Dad's passing. September 11 now holds a completely different meaning for me. It was certainly a year filled with grief and difficult lessons learned. For my sister and I specifically, we discovered how important it is to have our affairs in order, even now. I'm serious. 

About a year before our Dad died, we had encouraged him to examine his end of life plan. This was not a, "You're going to die soon, so figure out what you want" type of talk. This was a, "We never know when or what will happen. You have to be prepared" conversation. Bless his stubborn soul. He refused. In his mind, dying was so far off, it wasn't even worth considering yet. Round and round we went. Ugh, it was exhausting. And, unfortunately, he won that conversation every single time. (Perhaps "winning" isn't the best way to describe our discussions. My Dad would yell and make grunting noises, shake his head and say, "You don't know what you're talking about." Then, he would change the subject or ask you to leave. Winning, I guess...?)

Fast forward one year. Our lives turned upside down when a heart attack took his life. It was devastating. On top of the grief we were feeling, we were charged with the task of organizing his affairs, or more accurately, we were charged with the task of trying not to shake our heads over the lack of organization in his affairs. He named no beneficiaries or familial contacts on any of his accounts. We had no idea what was out there. Any debt? Medical records? Who do we need to notify? Social security will need to know? Friends? Family members? I recall an interesting conversation with my research advisor (and good friend) from graduate school. She said, "It will take about a year to get everything in order. Be prepared." Ugh. Are you serious? No way. Melanie and I will be *on top of it!* 

I was lying to myself. 

Here we are, a year later, still working through the legalities of his life. 

And so the universe spoke loud and clear. Be prepared. Over the last few months, I have been making a *very* organized list of all of my financial obligations, beneficiaries and familial contacts. "Where will this go when I go?" is a question I've asked myself repeatedly. Gosh, I teach Death and Dying to college students for crying out loud. This should be an easy task! It's not. It's a challenge. More than just the sweat of producing such a bundle of information, I was stricken with anxiety over the possibility that someday something might happen. So, am I an alarmist? Certainly not. I'm prepared. I could be faced with the end today. Or tomorrow. Who knows? The reality is, Melanie and I *do not* want to leave our family members with the burdens our Dad left us. We miss him so, but perhaps his final lesson for us was his most valuable one. It is awfully interesting that we learned it after he was gone.