Boston Estate Planning and Probate Lawyer & Attorney : Gosselin & Associates Law Firm : Serving Boston, Winchester, Hingham, Wellesley, Manchester

Tim Russert's sudden death from a heart attack upset me more than the death of any public figure in a long time. Tim Russert was one the few mainstream broadcast journalists (other than a few dinosaurs like Tom Brokaw, Dan Rather, Leslie Stahl and Barbara Walters) who you could count on for true grit and substance.

At the time I heard of Tim Russert's death I was with a group of 20-something lawyers working on a complex Medicaid planning case. I got a CNN Breaking News flash and I announced it to the room. "Who is Tim Russert?" "What band was he in?" They sincerely did not know him, or at least his name, they feigned knowledge upon seeing his telltale Irish face. They admitted to getting their news and opinion from short clips on the internet. The sound bite generation. How can you really understand an issue unless you drill down and know the facts? Tim Russert was a master interviewer - no doubt from his legal training and working class roots.

So what else died with Tim Russert? In an America where the average person's attention span is just slightly greater than that of a gnat, Tim Russert's death represents nothing short than a great loss to mainstream intelligentia. Not to say that Tim Russert was a nerd or stuck in an ivory tower, far from it, but he was someone who demonstrated everyday the inquiry that America needs to make of its leaders. Jay Severin was in tears for most of his daily talk show on WTKK (96.9) in Boston. Jay and I have little in common from the perspective of how we think America should run, but we agree that Tim Russert asked the hard questions and now there is a void.

I would be failing my loyal blog readers if I did not point out the obvious in a sudden death like the death of Tim Russert - plan for it. No matter who you are, how healthy and robust you may be - if you have loved ones or property plan for your death now. At least have a simple will, but preferably take the time to do what Tim Russert did with political figures - ask the hard questions, demand sober thinking, get to the truth in your own life.

Tim Russert, I wish we had had time for a beer.

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A few months back my barber became seriously ill. Since I get my haircut about once every 6 weeks or so, I happened to come to the barber shop at the beginning of the "bad news cycle" that the other barbers in the shop had started. These old Italian men quite emotionally described how their brother barber had fallen ill, the grave prognosis, his family's sorrows, the distress on his friends, etc. It was quite a natural outpouring of woe about everyone's mutual friend.

Because of a probate court date I needed a trim about a month later, I was met once again with the news of the barber's illness, he'll be out until March, his wife has taken time from work, etc... It was quite matter of fact really, but they needed to tell me as I had asked "how's he doing?" This got me thinking about how there is a whole exercise around communicating about grief. How we become accustomed to repeating dreadful things. "Yes, he went quickly, the bus driver was cited for speeding." "Mother fought cancer for years, it's a blessing she's gone." "I just woke up and there he was, he never woke up."

Anyone that has stood in the receiving line at a wake has taken part in the modern grief dance. The mourner says "I'm so sorry for your loss"; the family member says "thank you for coming, it would have meant a lot to old Ed." Rinse, wash, repeat. I'm not a psychologist, but I think there's some harm in wakes. Originally wakes were apparently held to ward off evil spirits (by staying awake with the body) until you got the body in the ground. Wakes then evolved to be a form of confirmation of death and social event. Until fairly recently in human history wakes were always held in the family's home. Either dead people started having more friends or someone saw a business opportunity in using their living room for wakes and the "funeral parlor" was born.

Me, I'd be perfectly happy to be waked in my front hall. The wake is an event for the living, not the dead. It's a time to bring families together to mourn, grieve and share stories of the dear departed. But wouldn't it be nice for a widow not to have to explain how her husband got stuck in the snowblower last Thursday 400 times? I propose a new model for wakes. First, let's do them in happy places, like Cheesecake Factory or the Museum of Fine Arts (another business opportunity for AARP?). Seriously, the body will be happy whereever it's placed and frankly it's only our more recent generations where all things humans are pasteurized and sterilized. In many countries bodies are buried quickly after death (mainly for the practical purpose of avoiding the consequences of hot weather), but also to dispatch the corpse so that there can be a celebration of the person's life through various forms of mourning. Heck, maybe the Probate Court could be a positive place for families to come together? I've always wanted to officiate a reading of the will like you see in movies, maybe it could be a new tradition to have a will read at a social event for the recently departed? As outlandish as these ideas may seem, our customs change over time - influenced by the tastes and preferences of people. Americans like convenience and America, Inc. likes to sell at every turn - watch out for commercialism of this most sacred time, too.

I think having a positive venue for a wake and funeral sends the message that the family continues to live. I think obituaries could be a bit more truthful as well to avoid the inevitable "how did she die?" question. How hard would it be to add a short line that says "Mary was walking along Main Street last Tuesday when a tiger that had recently escaped from the zoo caused her untimely death." I will say I like what the Boston Globe has done with their obituary section recently. The Boston Globe has added the option (for a price) of adding a photograph of the decedent. I am always drawn to these people's pictures. Today, sadly, there was a two month old baby's picture. The other day there was a Marine in his dress blues that is not coming home from far off lands. It's good to see that the dead are like us, not only old, but all ages. Death is a great equalizer - it doesn't know class, race or creed. It is one of life's certainties, and I believe the more we embrace proper estate planning, communication between family members about last wishes and the inevitability of death, the less stressful our deaths will be for the loved ones that we leave behind. Those who know me know that I love to boat and fish in Boston Harbor. A funeral director friend of mine has a boat berthed near mine, her name is "No Wake Today."

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Middle class Americans are becoming more and more sheltered from those things that make us all human. Most everything is delivered in hermetically sealed packages, lest we be exposed to germs. Sports for children no longer have winners or losers - we wouldn't want to put such labels on our youngsters. And most notably, there is an alarming trend to shield our youth from those things that reveal our humanity. Despite the nightly news having an agenda of Lipitor sales and fear mongering, it shows us a reflection of ourselves. Crime, civil strife, natural disaster are all common themes. While I am not advocating that children need see the mayhem that is war or some of the more suggestive sexual topics that seem to show up at ratings time, I do believe that our children need to know and embrace those things that make us living beings. I mean death. Not Halloween-Freddy Krueger-Dracula-death, mind you, but death as a natural eventuality of life. Children in the inner cities know death all too well. It is a natural eventuality of living in a place of despair, poverty and civil unrest. At least weekly you see a report of gang violence or random bullets hitting some poor soul just trying to get by. These shootings are followed by the expected outpourings of grief, and in the crowd there are inevitably children witnessing the goings on.  In fact, in many other parts of the world, death is such a familiar sight that children are often an integral part of such funerary preparations as washing the body of a recently departed family member. These children know the measure of one life, its value and its fragility. Which brings me back to suburban America. Experts in child blabbochology tell us that children's delicate psyche cannot process the meaning of death. Bull hockey. From my many years working with families facing the crisis that is serious illness and the natural eventuality of death, children, like adults, need to witness the natural course of life. My fear is that without an understanding, or worse with a homogenization of death and its singular beauty, whole generations of our society will view elders and those with dread illnesses as unworthy of their attention. While I am not suggesting that you bring your young child to the next funeral announced in The Boston Globe obituary, I do suggest that you bring your child to visit an infirm elder or a children's ward in a long term care facility such as the Shriner's Burn Center. But when the time comes in your family or neighborhood for a funeral, bring your child. Hold her hand tightly. Tell her it is right to be a little sad. Explain that the decedent has died and that death is our body's natural end. If you have beliefs about what happens next, by all means pass those on then and there. If you have no belief in anything beyond that coffin - share that belief. My father told me a story that will stay with me forever. He lived in Boston in an apartment with his extended family of his parents, grandfather and two uncles. In the mid 1920's one of his uncles went to Vermont to work in the quarries that were hiring strong Irish backs at the time. Within three days he lay crushed under a two ton block of marble, a victim of corporate America's disregard for the lives of their workers. In any event, his body was brought back to Boston to the front parlor of my father's apartment. My then young father, at about 5 years old, sat with his dear uncle and rest of his family for the requisite two days. My father always spoke fondly of this first experience with death and the beauty and intimacy that it provided him. While I'm not advocating "Take a Child to a Funeral Month", I ask parents to re-consider leaving their children out of the ritual that the human world has wrought for honoring and dispatching our dead. Do it for no other reason to assure yourself attendance at your own funeral.

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The word came quickly that he had six weeks to live.  He just woke up with a splitting headache and blurry vision on a Tuesday, a Tuesday like any other Tuesday.  Went to the doctor, had a test or two, and WHOOMP! there was an inoperable tumor the size of a golf ball in his noggin.

The doctors said he would have about two or three weeks during which he could walk around and more or less function normally and then he would be put out of commission by the effects of the morphine and the lack of oxygen needed for his vital brain functions.  Most anyone would start praying or go sky diving, but this gentleman had a very different plan.  Since he could not travel to see the world due to the short amount of time left, the estate planning paperwork to be done and the final goodbyes to family and friends to be said, he instead chose to taste the world.  Yes, he would literally eat until he died.

With a globe as his guide and a close friend as chauffeur, he began to sample cuisines from over thirty countries.  Most of the food came from restaurants located in out-of-the-way places that he had always wanted to try, but much of the food also came from complete strangers who had heard of his plight. 

He did not suffer too much nausea as chemotherapy really was not an option at this point, but he was quite drowsy and lacked appetite much of the time.  This did not stop him from sampling the fiery foods of Cambodia and Laos or the butter-rich baked goods of Finland.  Even in the very last days when his consciousness was only fleeting, his family brought him his favorite foods just so the aroma of boeuf bourguignon or garlic mashed potatoes could comfort him.  He died as he wanted, sampling the world through its foods.

How will you die?  I don't mean 'hit by a bus', 'cancer' or a 'heart attack just like my father' - that's all so pedestrian.  The reaper will take each of us one way or another.  I mean what's your taste in dying?  Will you surround yourself with symphonies and hear the angels as you drift off?  Face the bull and jump from the plane like Tug McGraw?  Or, just sit quietly holding the hand of the one you love?

In my work as an elder law lawyer I am often one of the last people, outside of medical workers and family, that clients see before they die.  For the first years of my practice I soberly played my role as "the lawyer" with my dark suit, briefcase and methodical manner; but now, now I try to engage my clients with the notion that although life will continue on without them, they can be at peace knowing that they have done what they can to protect their loved ones.  I've warmed up to embracing, or at least touching, my dying clients as I  leave their bedsides with their affairs in order.  I whisper my last words into their ears, inaudible to their families, "Everything is in order, don't worry".  For better or worse, many of my very sick clients leave this world shortly thereafter. 

Take a moment and think about hearing that you only have weeks to live.  Have that bag packed in your mind.  Have your affairs in order.  It will let you taste the last bits of life instead of wasting precious time deciding what to pack.

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A few months back my barber became seriously ill. Since I get my haircut about once every 6 weeks or so, I happened to come to the barber shop at the beginning of the "bad news cycle" that the other barbers in the shop had started. These old Italian men quite emotionally described how their brother barber had fallen ill, the grave prognosis, his family's sorrows, the distress on his friends, etc. It was quite a natural outpouring of woe about everyone's mutual friend.

Because of a probate court date I needed a trim about a month later, I was met once again with the news of the barber's illness, he'll be out until March, his wife has taken time from work, etc... It was quite matter of fact really, but they needed to tell me as I had asked "how's he doing?" This got me thinking about how there is a whole exercise around communicating about grief. How we become accustomed to repeating dreadful things. "Yes, he went quickly, the bus driver was cited for speeding." "Mother fought cancer for years, it's a blessing she's gone." "I just woke up and there he was, he never woke up."

Anyone that has stood in the receiving line at a wake has taken part in the modern grief dance. The mourner says "I'm so sorry for your loss"; the family member says "thank you for coming, it would have meant a lot to old Ed." Rinse, wash, repeat. I'm not a psychologist, but I think there's some harm in wakes. Originally wakes were apparently held to ward off evil spirits (by staying awake with the body) until you got the body in the ground. Wakes then evolved to be a form of confirmation of death and social event. Until fairly recently in human history wakes were always held in the family's home. Either dead people started having more friends or someone saw a business opportunity in using their living room for wakes and the "funeral parlor" was born.

Me, I'd be perfectly happy to be waked in my front hall. The wake is an event for the living, not the dead. It's a time to bring families together to mourn, grieve and share stories of the dear departed. But wouldn't it be nice for a widow not to have to explain how her husband got stuck in the snowblower last Thursday 400 times? I propose a new model for wakes. First, let's do them in happy places, like Cheesecake Factory or the Museum of Fine Arts (another business opportunity for AARP?). Seriously, the body will be happy whereever it's placed and frankly it's only our more recent generations where all things humans are pasteurized and sterilized. In many countries bodies are buried quickly after death (mainly for the practical purpose of avoiding the consequences of hot weather), but also to dispatch the corpse so that there can be a celebration of the person's life through various forms of mourning. Heck, maybe the Probate Court could be a positive place for families to come together? I've always wanted to officiate a reading of the will like you see in movies, maybe it could be a new tradition to have a will read at a social event for the recently departed? As outlandish as these ideas may seem, our customs change over time - influenced by the tastes and preferences of people. Americans like convenience and America, Inc. likes to sell at every turn - watch out for commercialism of this most sacred time, too.

I think having a positive venue for a wake and funeral sends the message that the family continues to live. I think obituaries could be a bit more truthful as well to avoid the inevitable "how did she die?" question. How hard would it be to add a short line that says "Mary was walking along Main Street last Tuesday when a tiger that had recently escaped from the zoo caused her untimely death." I will say I like what the Boston Globe has done with their obituary section recently. The Boston Globe has added the option (for a price) of adding a photograph of the decedent. I am always drawn to these people's pictures. Today, sadly, there was a two month old baby's picture. The other day there was a Marine in his dress blues that is not coming home from far off lands. It's good to see that the dead are like us, not only old, but all ages. Death is a great equalizer - it doesn't know class, race or creed. It is one of life's certainties, and I believe the more we embrace proper estate planning, communication between family members about last wishes and the inevitability of death, the less stressful our deaths will be for the loved ones that we leave behind. Those who know me know that I love to boat and fish in Boston Harbor. A funeral director friend of mine has a boat berthed near mine, her name is "No Wake Today."

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