This Mortal Coil

"But in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."

- Benjamin Franklin

If you noticed a distinct dearth of blogging on my part following my commentaries on my first week on the new job and my less-than-challenging computer competency exams, you probably assumed I was just too busy with job and school. (If you didn't notice that blogging dearth, you probably aren't reading this.)

Would that the reasons for my silence were that simple and benign. Sadly, they were neither; in reality, I was preoccupied with thoughts of mortality and traveling to my home town in Maine for a memorial service for my brother, who passed away in July. He was only 47, seven years younger than me.

It's not the first time I've had occasion to contemplate my own mortality; 15 years ago, a couple of months shy of my 40th birthday, I was shaken by the sudden deaths of a neighbor who succumbed to an asthma attack, and a teaching colleague (with whom I had shared an office for two years) who died a few days after a massive stroke. Both were in their early 40s. Until then, I had never given much thought to such matters as wills, health-care proxies, and instructions for my eventual burial; at 40-ish, with no children and most of my assets covered by joint tenancy (with my then-husband) or named beneficiaries, I had never felt any urgency. After all, 40-ish is too young to think about dying... until you attend the funerals of two 40-ish friends a few weeks apart.

I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that my new-found determination to get my affairs in order didn't last very long. In fact, I still don't have a will, even though my divorce three years ago blew apart my joint tenancy/named beneficiary rationale. I think part of the problem is that many of my work and leisure associates over the years have been considerably younger than me -- in some cases young enough they could be my kids -- and subconsciously I tend to think of myself as more or less a contemporary of my friends and colleagues, regardless of their ages. So, with most of my friends in recent years being in their 20s and 30s, it's been difficult to think of myself as old enough to worry about it.

Let me tell you, there's nothing like burying a younger sibling to drive home your real age. I've learned a number of important lessons in the last couple of weeks. Notes to self:

• Make a will. Lord knows I don't want the state of Virginia (or any other government entity, for that matter) to get their hands on my estate. My brother in fact did have a will -- and I think he was the only one of four siblings to have one. Ironically, his will was produced (at his request) by me, using a well-known will-making software package, almost ten years ago. So why didn't I do my own back then? Simple procrastination.
  
• Update the beneficiaries of my retirement accounts, insurance, etc. For some of my most recent assets, I had named my late brother, and some of my older accounts undoubtedly still list my ex-husband. That has to change. Now.
  
• Prepare some final instructions for when I shuffle off this mortal coil. While he did have a will, my brother did not leave behind any indication of whether he wanted a traditional casket burial or cremation, where he wanted to be buried, or if he wanted a secular or church service. My other two brothers and I could not recall him ever discussing any of this with us, so we had to guess at what his wishes might have been. We chose cremation, a secular service, and interment beside our parents, and can only hope he doesn't come back to haunt us for our choices. I don't want anyone to have to make those choices for me.
  
• Keep in closer contact with my remaining brothers. I had not seen any of them for 12 years, and had had maybe a half dozen phone and email contacts in that time with the two who are still living. Heck, my older brother had to hunt up my phone number on the Web to call and let me know the sad news. My late brother is the only one I had maintained sporadic contact with; he would phone me occasionally, and we exchanged emails off and on, but sometimes months would go by with no contacts. I hadn't heard from him since late May, and I will always regret not checking in with him again.
  

I have a lot to do.