Why End-of-Life Planning Matters More Than You Think
What I’ve Learned About Love, Loss, and Leaving a Plan Behind
Today, I want to talk about end of life planning. A topic that is uncomfortable and in many families a very difficult conversation. When my grandfather passed away, my mother and grandmother knew exactly what to do. They opened “the box.” Inside, there was a bottle of wine, two glasses, and the business card of the funeral director. They had made the decisions in advance, and everything was already taken care of. It wasn’t just about the logistics. It was a gift to them in a time of profound loss.
The same thing happened when my grandmother passed. All through her illnesses, she and my mom had frank conversations, sometimes even with me. There was no scrambling or rushing to make decisions. Just the space to grieve, knowing that the practical details were already handled. Not that the loss was any easier, but the burden of those decisions was lighter. And that mattered.
Planning Was Normal in My Family
End-of-life planning was never a taboo subject in my family. It was something we talked about around the dinner table, alongside everything else we discussed. At a young age, I was aware of what “DNR” (Do Not Resuscitate) meant. Conversations about serious health issues were part of our normal routine, likely because my grandparents faced multiple health crises. We were always near hospitals, surrounded by medical decisions, so we learned early how to talk openly about what mattered.
We knew what each person wanted, what they didn’t, and what their values were. Those conversations weren’t morbid—they were practical and necessary, filled with care. And when it came time to act, we didn’t have to guess. We didn’t have to scramble. We had clarity.
When Planning Is Missing
When my father got sick and then passed away, things were different. Some of his decisions had been shared, but not enough. My brothers and I weren’t on the same page about many things. We didn’t have “the box.” My parents were long divorced, and we had to navigate in the dark. My mother’s family had always spoken openly about these things, but my father’s side did their best to ignore them until they had no choice.
By the time my mother passed, we were even more disconnected. Without those crucial conversations, without clarity, we were left to guess what she would have wanted. And that uncertainty added to the grief. It’s a kind of ache that lingers long after the loss itself.
Compassion, Not Fear
End-of-life planning isn’t about fear. It’s about compassion. It’s about making sure that when the time comes, your loved ones don’t have to make decisions in the midst of their grief. They don’t have to second-guess what you would have wanted. They already know.
When we plan ahead, we give our families a gift—a chance to focus on the love and the memories, not the stress of making decisions in a crisis.
Your Legacy Is More Than Your Possessions
This isn’t just about documents. It’s about presence. The reflection of your values, your care, your clarity.
It’s a way of continuing to hold the people you love, even after you’re gone. We don’t get to control when or how we leave this life.
But we do get to decide what kind of peace we leave behind. And maybe that’s the real inheritance:
Not the money. Not the possessions.
But the calm. The clarity. The grace.
The knowing that love was there to the very end— and made a plan to stay, even after.
