Will and Testament

I wasn’t eavesdropping, exactly. I was just sitting close enough to be unable not to listen to someone’s very personal conversation.

Two women were talking about death – or, rather, preparing for death... openly, calmly and without melodrama or heightened emotion. One of them was explaining why she had spent time ensuring her affairs were in order. “When so and so died, he hadn’t sorted any of it out..not his will, not anything”.

As the conversation progressed, an idea began forming in my mind.

I pretended to read my book, sitting on the next bench over in the cemetery where I went to read quite often. I find cemeteries to be one of the most soothing and calming places to exercise, relax, read and unwind. Weird, you may think. But you should try it sometimes. This place was lovely, with imposing marble crypt-like houses, gloriously beautiful madonnas and cherubic angels presiding over granite and stone headstones, flowers are strewn everywhere in lovely floral splendor, a tribute to the hopefully resting souls.

Anyway, to return to the subject at hand, apparently all the worldly goods of this woman’s former long-term partner had gone to his estranged wife, with whom he hadn’t spoken in 40 years. The house, the savings, the pension pot...everything.

“They’d never bothered to get a divorce,” she said. “I didn’t mind so much for me. But his assets really should have gone to his kids, our kids".

Seeming remarkably sanguine about this state of affairs and exuding the kind of deeply Zen acceptance people spend a lifetime reading self-help manuals trying to achieve, the woman kept speaking. She’d moved on, but not before learning the hard way that facing the inevitability of our demise and planning accordingly isn’t morbid. It’s the kindest thing we can do to ensure we don’t land our loved ones with an almighty mess. As a result, she now had a fully updated will and other legal documents, plus an explicit list of her funeral wishes.

It was the kind of conversation that one expected people to chat about in a cemetery. The more these women talked, the more I realized what a healthy and refreshing idea it was. It got me thinking about how the unwillingness many of us have when it comes to preparing for death in any way...financially, practically or emotionally...is steeped in a deep-rooted denial.

The idea that if someone left clear instructions, then at the end of it all, everything shall become so very simple, was fascinating indeed!

Talking about death, however, is uncomfortable, with some people hanging onto the superstition that talking about it will make it happen.

So how was I to start this conversation, funeral wishes, list of accounts and passwords, lasting power of attorney. Everything. Explaining that whoever went first could go with peace of mind would be an added gentle touch.

Maybe the concept of 'death cleaning'!

Döstädning...Death cleaning

Döstädning involves having a regular declutter, paring things down to the essentials, to ensure that when you die, your executors won’t have to deal with reams of rubbish. I mean, no one is immortal, right?

Question is...If we can 'death clean' for the afterlife, why can we not also (death clean), pare down the people in our lives while we are still living, to make our lives easier?

Such a morbid and fascinating idea was then born in my mind while I sat and eavesdropped in the serene place of the dead.

There’s nothing worse than someone dying and their name popping up all over Facebook as if they’re still alive, I will need to make sure that this will actually happen. Note to self!

If nothing’s guaranteed in this life except death and taxes, surely the kindest thing we can do is get prepared. And so we did prepare. We familiarized each other with the complete dossier on our complete existence. By the end we could easily fit into each other's profile anywhere.

A warm and pleasant ocean trip was our gift to each other, to celebrate our new found wisdom.

We sat on the little boat which we had bought a year ago, I had packed a lovely picnic basket to celebrate our freedom from worry and our plans for a long life together. Our Wills were written, and we each would benefit in the event of each other's demise. How happy and trusting he was, never once suspecting how black and evil my heart was.

He was a kind man, a bit distant, yet considerate and easy going. Oh, how bored I was with my existence, but now we were both insured, he for five million, me for one million bucks. There was the business, the mansion, the summer home, the yacht, the small airplane and the other assets which were insured separately. I had made plans.

We sat in quiet contemplation, the sunlit day serene and welcoming as he smiled in contentment, staring straight ahead.

Did I feel remorse at my black heart. No! I relished the idea of freedom and the means to acquire it.

As I sat musing on the best way to execute my plan and throw my better half overboard, the weather suddenly changed. The wind pushed against the sail, propelling the boat through the water.

My eyes were riveted to the mast as the sail billowed. In shock I saw the boom or whatever it is called, become loose and swing towards me. I was transfixed with horror, hypnotized as if in a daze. NO! This was all wrong, the plan, what was happening?

I could not move. The thing swung as if by magic, knocking me over the side of the boat. I went under, fighting to get a grip on my senses.

I spluttered as my head bobbed up above the water. He heard the splash, turned and saw me shouting and waving frantically, he just stared without moving. He released the wheel and shoved the sail, boom and mast back into place, as if it had been tampered with, for the thing slid back and stood firm. No other vessels were visible as far as I could see.

Fighting the wind, he finished his task, slowly swiveled his head back to the matter of steering the boat and stared straight ahead, not looking back at me a second time. He just kept going!

I treaded water as the little boat became smaller and smaller, until it was a speck upon the horizon, then completely disappeared.

Did he know what had been in my heart the whole time...or had he too made the same plan as I had. Sadly, I may never know!

I felt myself beginning to sink into the depths of the wind tossed ocean and heard my mother's voice, an echoed remembered warning, a favorite of hers.

"When you dig one pit, better dig two. One for your brother and one for you"!

My friends, be wary, for "the best laid plans of mice and men oft' go awry...and leave us nothing but grief and pain. For promised joy"! Robert Burns 1785.

The poor mouse had spent hours building its home, never making allowance for the fact that the farmer was only too happy to rip it apart and destroy it.

And now I may die, instead of him!!!!!!Karma is a witch.

But wait! Is that a ship upon the far horizon?