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

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."

• Email This
• Print
• Comments
• Trackbacks

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.

• Email This
• Print
• Comments
• Trackbacks

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."

• Email This
• Print
• Comments
• Trackbacks

I met Mitt Romney about eight years ago. Mitt and I maintained an odd sort of relationship over a couple of years. He and I would sit twenty feet apart each week for five hours at time. We never shared a word, but our eyes would meet almost every Friday evening with a "hey neighbor" nod of the head. I represented a company in Utah that is in the legal and real estate software business. From 1999 to 2001 I attended regular Friday morning meetings at the company's office in Provo, Utah. Each Friday night I would fly Delta back to Boston. Invariably I would see the same well dressed man traveling alone sitting in the waiting area. Often he would be reading business papers, but just as often he would be passively enjoying the throng of people filing through the airport. He was Mitt Romney, head of the Salt Lake City Olympic Committee, but I didn't put his face with his name for several months.

I noticed something very different about this well dressed and outwardly successful man right from the beginning. As we boarded the plane, each traveling alone, I would take my seat in the first class cabin (because I traveled so much Delta upgraded me on every flight) and Mitt Romney would take his aisle seat in the coach cabin. One time I glanced at the flight manifest that they tack up in the first class galley and saw that Mitt Romney's name was in the list with mine as a "medallion flyer", meaning that he had the same privilege to sit in the front of the bus. And he's tall, and he traveled frequently, but he sat with the people. This was a five hour plus flight at night. The plane was normally only half full and was one of those dull dark rambling flights bringing people from one place to another place without any fanfare. Mitt Romney was not being watched by the Boston Globe or New York Times, he was not even a politician - just a tired business traveler trying to be home for the weekend.

Back to the Boston Globe story and how this relates to estate planning, elder law and lawyers in Massachusetts generally. I have no affiliation with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormons) - those that know me know that I would last about ten minutes with their prohibitions on coffee, foul language and alcohol - not to mention where I stand on virtually every social issue of importance in modern life. But I have developed a great respect for their single most important belief - that our families our bound to us forever and therefore of utmost importance. Mitt Romney and I see few issues the same way on the scorecard of politics that the media requires of candidates, but I still see Mitt Romney as a worthy man for leadership in America. That's not to say I'd vote for him, I probably won't, but if Mitt Romney got elected at least I would trust that he would act honorably.

The Boston Globe ran a 37 picture album of the Romney family today. From Mitt Romney's childhood through to his wife's birthday party this past spring his devotion to family is without peer. Mitt Romney reads to his grandchildren. Mitt Romney brings his kids to school on their first day. Mitt Romney cuddles with his newborn son. Mitt Romney holds his wife's hand. Mitt Romney came home on Friday nights to be with his family, steerage class. I recently heard a story about Michael Eisner, the former head at Disney, who apparently had a sign in his office that read "If you're not here Saturday, don't bother coming in Sunday." You won't see this sign in Mitt Romney's oval office. Sure, he'll be available for emergencies of state, but more likely Mitt Romney will be at church and playing Wiffle Ball with his sons on the lawn of the White House. Learn from Mitt Romney. Not the politics (we can have that discussion another time). Learn how the man has enjoyed unimaginable financial and personal success but still goes to his lake house in New Hampshire most weekends to pull water skiers and attend his grand daughters' tea parties. Mitt Romney's devotion to family is worth emulating. In my elder law practice more than anywhere else I see the opposite example.

I see parents that never made the time to read to their children, counsel them when they had problems or share their hobbies. What does this breed? Ask Harry Chapin (Cat's in the Cradle). These children impoverish the spirit of their parents by not helping when their parents need help the most. These children impoverish their children by living as their parents lived. It is not too late to mend your ways, especially if you still have young children in the house. Bring a kid golfing with you (Mitt Romney was his father's caddy). Skip your weekly poker game and bring your kids to the movies. Tell your boss that you can't make it to that late meeting because your son has a little league game. Eat your meals together as a family, at a table, without a television or iPod and talk about the events of the day. Go camping, in a tent, with nothing run by electricity. Mitt Romney did these things in spades with his busy father and as a busy father. If you treat your children as an extension of yourself and you bond your family together on the premise that you will be spiritually together for an eternity or at least while your hearts are beating (whatever your beliefs may be), you will be rich - richer than you can ever imagine. Ask Mitt Romney.

• Email This
• Print
• Comments
• Trackbacks