No one wants the stereo

About this Video:

I thought I was ahead of this. I’ve got a revocable trust, and I figured I’d done the homework. But the more I read about what happens to families after a parent dies, the more I realized that the paperwork only covers part of the problem.

The house and the accounts are clear. But what about the things that carry memories? The photographs, the furniture, the pottery, the objects that become a kind of scoreboard for whether somebody felt they counted?

I’m seventy-three, and I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve made peace with that. What scares me is what might happen to my family after Suzanne and I are both gone. I worry that my kids will drift apart, and I have to admit that I helped build that distance.

My father was an artisan. He made pottery, furniture, and watercolor paintings. Some of his pottery is still in the family. The paintings and furniture are gone. Nobody had a family meeting about any of it. And now I’m wondering what we’re leaving behind beyond the things we own.

So Suzanne and I are planning family meetings with our kids. We’ll go through the house and talk about who wants what. But the stuff isn’t really the agenda. It’s a reason to get everybody in the same room.

There’s one conversation I’m afraid to have with my son. I don’t know what he’ll say, and I don’t know if a family meeting can fix years of distance. But I’ll know more after the first one.

Because estate planning isn’t only about who gets the stereo. It’s also about whether we’ve said the things that need saying while we’re still here.

Transcript:
I thought I was ahead of this. Not fear, more the quiet smugness of a man with a folder. I’ve got a revocable trust. I figured I’d done the homework. Then I read the part in the internet where people talk at 2:00 in the morning, and I hadn’t. I went looking for people arguing about wills. That’s not what’s out there.

One grief site, one post, hundreds of comments, almost none about money. A woman named Debbie wrote that her sister removed every photograph of her from their mother’s house, then left her off the memorial. Read 50 of these and the subject changes on you. The objects aren’t objects, they’re a scoreboard. It’s how people find out whether they counted. The parent was the referee. Once the referee’s gone, the game gets replayed with nobody to call it.

You know, my trust is clear about the house and the accounts. Nothing about what’s inside it. Nothing’s tagged. We’ve never had that conversation. I own a stereo. It’s big, it’s expensive, and I love it. Nobody wants a stereo

I’m not afraid of the paperwork. You can hire that out. What I’m afraid of is my family after suzanne and I are both gone. Here’s my honest bet. I bet they drift. Separate lives, limited contact. That’s not a forecast. That’s right now, and I built it when my kids were six, seven, eight. I treated them like employees, and I’m not going to soften that. Let me tell you a story about my father. He’s the only real evidence I’ve got.

He was an artisan, a potter, a furniture maker, a watercolorist. Neither my sister nor I got any of it. The paintings are gone. I don’t know where they are. The furniture’s gone too. He built it in his twenties. The house got redecorated around it.

What survived is the pottery. My sister has some, my kids, their kids. Nobody tagged it. Nobody put it in a trust. There was never a family meeting about the pottery. The paintings got hung, the mugs got used, and only one of those is still in my kitchen

Here’s the part I’ve never said out loud. I think both my kids hold me at arm’s length. That’s how it feels from where I’m standing. I have never said that to my son, not once, and the truth is, I’m scared to. Strange thing to admit at seventy-three in a video about arranging your own death.

You know, I’m not afraid of dying. I made peace with that a long time ago. I’m afraid of one conversation with my son. So we’re having family meetings, me, Suzanne, both kids in a room. We’ll go through the house. Who wants what? But the stuff isn’t the agenda. The stuff is to take it into the room. And here’s what I’m afraid of hearing. Not a fight. I’m afraid of, “I don’t care what you guys wanna do. Just do it.” The shrug. Agreement that isn’t real comes apart later in a lawyer’s office. I don’t know if this works. It won’t fix fifty years in an afternoon. I’ll know more after the first meeting.

The question I keep circling back to has nothing to do with the stereo. I wonder who’s going to come. Tell me in the comments, did somebody leave you a mess? And if you’re the one doing the planning, what’s the sentence you haven’t said out loud yet? You don’t have to tell me what it is. I’d just like to know you’ve got one.

Hey, this is Josh. You’re on The Long Strange Trip. I’m glad you’re here. I hope to see you back here next week