Don’t know when I’ll arrive, but at least I’ll know what to do when I get there.
I did my will over the weekend, so if ever there were a sign that I’m now a grown up then this surely must be it. I filled it out online: it turns out there’s an app for that. I found it through Groupon. If that’s not the most Millennial way of managing one’s affairs then I don’t know what is.  But let’s face it: I don’t need much. I’m young and in good health and have neither wealth nor squabbling heirs to fight over it. I just need a piece of paper to keep the courts from carving off a generous serving of my assets while they figure out the obvious line of succession. 

Anyway, it wasn’t a difficult task, but I put it off for a long time. I think it took me all of twenty minutes from start to finish to answer the appropriate questions: I already knew all the answers. All I have to do now is print it out and sign it with witnesses and it transforms into a legal document. Easy peasey. 

That said, I slightly underestimated the emotional workload, which stuck with me for the rest of the day in the form of an emotional funk that I couldn’t quite shake. I don’t feel particularly conflicted about the inevitability of my own death. Rather, I find myself struggling with the secondary storylines- what it will mean to my chosen executor to carry out the wishes I set down, and what my story will be as the executor of other people’s wills and the responsibility of end of life decisions. 

I still haven’t quite shaken the feeling of being wrapped in fog, slightly separate from the rest of the world. Going through the motions of my day was a comfortable routine while some deeper part of my mind wrapped itself up in the more difficult task of reshaping itself to fit these new ideas that were dredged up. I don’t know how long this is likely to last, but I hope that by dealing with some of this weight now the burden will be lightened div the line.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on September 26, 2017.

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