A Holiday Wish – the importance of estate planning
Sometimes, when you don’t get the love you want, giving gives you the hope that you might.
I remember being an awkward and geeky teenager, agonizing over the perfect Christmas present for that year’s boy of my dreams, hoping that if I got it right he’d finally really see me and naturally fall madly in love. The Hallmark version of the holidays is a time of laughter and cheer, surrounded by those you love with a jaunty soundtrack in the background. The reality is a bit messier. The holidays can get complicated as we are crammed into overly-heated rooms, wearing itchy sweaters, choking down food prepared with the best of intentions seasoned with questionable culinary skills and overworked schedules, forced to chat jovially with people we’d be just fine not seeing. It is a season that can require holding one’s tongue, forcing a smile and gamely trying to mask disappointment. The thoughtful gift of which you were so proud doesn’t generate anywhere near the response you hoped for so you tell yourself that you don’t mind. Perhaps the reality of the holidays doesn’t quite live up to your anticipation. Or perhaps you’ve given up hopeful anticipation as child-like and futile. Ah, to be human and to endure the torture of having a heart … and later in the evening heartburn thanks to Aunt Bertha’s brandy-soaked fruitcake.
This is fifth Christmas I will spend without my dad. He died February 8th, 2008. He was diagnosed terminal December 17th, 2007. He spent the last few weeks of his life in the hospital, hooked up to machines that pumped oxygen into his cancer-filled lungs, in a futile quest for more time while other machines pumped drugs into him to ease the pain as his cells slowly died from his blood’s ever dwindling supply of oxygen. He never smoked. The cancer had migrated from a seemingly minor squamous cell carcinoma that had been inadequately surgically removed from his cheek, into his lymph nodes and then throughout his body, aided by an immune system weakened from chronic lymphocytic leukemia . For me, the last few weeks of his life were a concentrated version of our life together, with me silently aching for more of his time, for more of his attention. He remained, as always, preoccupied with everything else that he felt was his responsibility. He loved me, he loved all of his family, but he was a man born of the Great Depression, a man who saw his life as a series of duties to be performed and accomplishments to be obtained. He was an incredibly good man, revered by his colleagues, wise in many ways and always honorable. He was my hero. He still is. I miss him.
When he died, all hell broke loose. I am the youngest of 5, but the only child from both my mother and father and their marriage of 42 years. The other four, all boys, are from prior marriages, which is why despite being the youngest, I was chosen to be the trustee for their various trusts. My father believed that it was his responsibility to take care of my mother so with the intent of care-taking, she was shielded from knowing much about their financial affairs. She’s an exceptionally bright woman, but his protection resulted in her having a lack of experience, which naturally resulted in a deficit of confidence in managing their finances upon his passing and so it fell to me. I’ll spare you the gory details but suffice it to say that my half-brothers had very different expectations of what would happen upon dad’s passing than what actually occurred. I was forced to give up my career for a while and much of my personal life in order to deal with the various legal issues that arose. A portion of the legal mess I faced was due to these unmet familial expectations. At a time when a family should pull together and find strength and solace in sharing their memories and sadness, mom and I found ourselves under attack. Thankfully my father was an attorney and his law firm rounded up the troops, came to our aid and protected “his ladies” admirably. The attacks and accusations were shown to be baseless, but irreparable damage had been done.
Part of the passion behind my firm, Meritas Advisors, is to try and prevent anyone else from enduring the pain, the sense of betrayal and the isolation that my mother and I experienced and to keep another family from being torn apart. Family dynamics are always complicated and money often exacerbates frictions. This Christmas, my gift to you is what I learned during that hell and in the years since then wrapped in the hope that it can help you and your family, or someone you know and their family.
Upon the death of a parent, when assets are all that is left, some kids will fight like mad for whatever is left in a desperate attempt to satiate needs not satisfied during their parent’s life. The assets become a surrogate for the love and attention that can no longer be won. Each of us can immeasurably add to the happiness of those we love by making the effort to understand how they want to be loved, what makes them feel special and adored, rather than what we believe should do the job. For families, some of the work of estate planning could be greatly simplified if each child was confident that they really mattered to mom and dad. During our battles my attorneys told me they’d seen siblings tear each other apart time and time again after losing a parent when there were unresolved issues with the lost parent.
Conversely the person receiving the “love” gifts, be they actual gifts, errands run, honey-do lists checked off, awkward apologies, or fumbling conversations can do their best to see these gifts the way the giver intends them, even if they aren’t quite what you would have chosen for yourself. Enjoying gifts given as they are intended versus how we perceive them is one of life’s greatest challenges.
As an attorney, my father was a master of discretion and taught me how important it is to respect information that is entrusted to you. Unless specifically instructed otherwise, I assume that everything I am told, by family, friends and clients is confidential, locking it away in my mental vault. Discretion and privacy is essential, until it comes to the awful mess of an estate, which ironically is an area in which most families’ inter-communication echoes crickets on a summer’s night. My dad’s sons insisted that he told them things concerning the aftermath of his death that completely contradicted not only his Will and Trusts, but would have been impossible under the U.S. tax code. Knowing all parties involved, I can imagine he gave them a very rough outline, at best, which they likely filled in with their own hopes and wishful interpretations, perhaps even unconsciously, leading to monstrous mis-communication that caused a mountain of unnecessary suffering.
The “here’s what will happen when I die” conversation is arguably one of the most uncomfortable, but if at all possible, should be one families have openly with all affected parties in the same room. Specific details such as amounts or percentages can be withheld if so desired, but it is much easier for those that will have to move on without their loved one if they have a decent understanding of the basics ahead of time. This conversation can even be a productive one that helps strengthen relationships as family members talk about how they could conceivably help each other and share their fears. While the thought of one’s own death or the idea of losing someone is horrible to contemplate, there is something potentially beautiful in allowing yourself to imagine that loss and using it to help focus today on what’s important so that there are no or at least fewer regrets later.
For those that are interested, Meritas can help guide families through these often awkward and uncomfortable conversations or in thinking through how to better ensure that you are able to best help your loved ones, even if you are no longer around to do it in person. We aren’t lawyers, so we do not provide legal advice, but we can help guide you and your family on ways to work with your attorney, with each other, and serve as a sounding board to think through familial issues. We all have them.
This holiday season as you find yourself in the bathroom searching for something to ease the gastrointestinal revolt from the most recent cocktail party finger food, or stand in the line from hell at Target, clutching at the last of the wrapping paper you managed to find under a pile of partially smashed ornaments trying desperately to not kick the loudmouthed, 50 coupon carrying shopper in front of you, think on this. The best gift you can give, the gift that will be treasured by those most important to you is your earnest desire in ways they can see, to have them bask in your love and focused attention, if only for a few stolen moments here and there.
There is a reason our days here are limited, so that we can develop the wisdom to see each one as precious.
