I was in a dead person's apartment today.
I have never really had to deal with death in my life. The only person really close to me that ever died was my godmother. I have only ever been to two wakes, and I don't think I have ever attended a funeral. I had friends in high school that died, which was always very weird, but I never felt close enough to them to actually attend their funeral. However, working in the field of estate planning and probate, I deal with death in other people's lives quite a bit, and sometimes it affects my life more than others.
Recently, we had a client die, and the partner of the firm was named as his personal representative (or executor). Once we had gone to court and filed the necessary documents to "open the estate", we had to travel to his home (an apartment in a retirement community) and go through his belongings trying to find all of his financial information, important papers, remove perishable foods, find his wallet (which the partner told me would likely already be cleaned out of cash - and it was), and the like.
It was such an odd sensation for me to be going through someone else's personal belongings: photos, nick knacks, etc. Seeing pictures of loved ones and memories, and items that were clearly important to him at one point in his life. His altar to his deceased wife, who he clearly was still in love with even after her death, and his continuing love for Oreo cookies (of the double stuff variety). I felt like an intruder. Like I had walked in on a scene I was not supposed to disturb, and yet, I knew I was doing the right thing, and what needed to be done. There are deadlines, and things must happen within certain time frames.
I was reminded again, as I went through this gentleman's belongings that memories of career successes are not the ones that travel with us into our old age. The items that he seemed to treasure most were memories of family and friends, and the good times they shared. You cannot grow old with your letter openers, file cabinets, and swivel chairs. They will not laugh at your jokes or share in your memories, and they will offer you no comfort in your years of twilight. For those who rank their careers above all else this may not be the most heartening news to hear, but it is likely something that should be said and considered.
I have never really had to deal with death in my life. The only person really close to me that ever died was my godmother. I have only ever been to two wakes, and I don't think I have ever attended a funeral. I had friends in high school that died, which was always very weird, but I never felt close enough to them to actually attend their funeral. However, working in the field of estate planning and probate, I deal with death in other people's lives quite a bit, and sometimes it affects my life more than others.
Recently, we had a client die, and the partner of the firm was named as his personal representative (or executor). Once we had gone to court and filed the necessary documents to "open the estate", we had to travel to his home (an apartment in a retirement community) and go through his belongings trying to find all of his financial information, important papers, remove perishable foods, find his wallet (which the partner told me would likely already be cleaned out of cash - and it was), and the like.
It was such an odd sensation for me to be going through someone else's personal belongings: photos, nick knacks, etc. Seeing pictures of loved ones and memories, and items that were clearly important to him at one point in his life. His altar to his deceased wife, who he clearly was still in love with even after her death, and his continuing love for Oreo cookies (of the double stuff variety). I felt like an intruder. Like I had walked in on a scene I was not supposed to disturb, and yet, I knew I was doing the right thing, and what needed to be done. There are deadlines, and things must happen within certain time frames.
I was reminded again, as I went through this gentleman's belongings that memories of career successes are not the ones that travel with us into our old age. The items that he seemed to treasure most were memories of family and friends, and the good times they shared. You cannot grow old with your letter openers, file cabinets, and swivel chairs. They will not laugh at your jokes or share in your memories, and they will offer you no comfort in your years of twilight. For those who rank their careers above all else this may not be the most heartening news to hear, but it is likely something that should be said and considered.
How true. Our possessions are just material things that can easily be boxed and given away. It is the actions we take and the way that we love that mean the most.
ReplyDeleteI agree with you J. That's why you need to find yourself a good midwestern wife and start making babies. Hee hee!
ReplyDeleteSorry...just trying to lighten the mood.
On an unrelated topic..when you go to my site do you see the argyle pattern in the background? B/c I can't see it when I'm at work.
Yeah, I definitely see it.
ReplyDeleteWell, why the crap doesn't the computer at work show it?
ReplyDeleteI am not entirely certain. Maybe your computer at work is not allowing third party images to load in the Webpage. I am not as computer savvy as I once was, but according to the person that created your template, it may not work correctly after August 1st - http://blog-templates.ravasthi.name/
ReplyDeleteOMG so what will happen?!??!? Argh.
ReplyDeleteI wrote on this subject once. The only way that we're remembered in this world is through the lives we touch while we're in it, and there's a very few ways for that to be enduring. The first is the most common, through procreation, and creating and touching the lives of your own family tree; the second is through elevating yourself to a level of historical fame, and touching the lives of all that know of you and that may read of your exploits and deeds; and the third is by leaving lasting monuments and creations behind, marks of your life in this world, that touch the lives of all who encounter them as long as they endure. And while one's career can be of a vocation that would lead down one of these paths, most vocations do not lead in the direction of remembrance.
ReplyDeleteEventually, everything becomes lost in translation. Parents become grandparents, grandparents become great-grandparents, and before it goes too much farther up the family tree, you're reduced to being a name, a distant relative or ancestor; no matter how important you were or what you did, history will not remember you forever; and the story of what you made to last on this earth will eventually fade, just as the work itself will, until it is no more.
Still, given the choice, I'd choose to touch as many lives as possible, that I might be known and remembered, if only for a short while, rather than accomplishing tasks in life that ultimately are just groundwork that keeps the world turning, in one way or another.
And that is so sad, although not unexpected, that you'd arrive to find the old man's wallet cleaned out. *sigh* Congratulations on doing a difficult job, though.
i like the part about memories that accompany us are of friends and family, not career or material success.
ReplyDeletenice post.
when i was a kid...my parents moved me into the bedroom that my grandmother had died in...i didn't figure it out until later thank god! now it just feels creepy to know that i lived in that room for years and never gave it a second thought!
ReplyDelete