
Maybe it would be nice to be composted in a forest like this.
“Talking about sex doesn’t make you pregnant. Talking about death doesn’t make you die.”
(A quote that I heard on a recent Glennon Doyle “We Can Do Hard Things” podcast)
I met with a lawyer last week and we talked about death.
In other words, I finally got around to seeing someone official about setting up a trust, so that in the unfortunate occurrence of my sudden untimely death, my affairs would be handled in a way that would not burden my loved ones.
Since my good lawyer is thorough, he didn’t just set up a trust for me and leave it at that. He also took care of other stuff that will be helpful when it’s time to deal with end of life issues: creating a will, drawing up power of attorney documents (if a time comes when I can’t make decisions for myself) and developing a healthcare directive, a cheery form that lays out what kind of care you want when your days on this planet are clearly coming to an end.
(Nothing too crazy for me as far as that goes: Pain relief? Yes, please! Respirators and feeding tubes and all that? Not so much. Interestingly, he said that’s what most people choose.)
I am relieved that those documents will be finished soon.
It’s sobering, though.
I realized that my friends and loved ones and I haven’t talked much about any of this.
(Because clearly we are all going to live forever.)
The lawyer asked, “What would you like to have done with your body? Cremation? Burial? Where would you like to end up? A cemetery? Which one? Would you like to have a service? What kind?” Continue Reading…







