She didn't come home that day.

She didn’t come home that day.

Almost three weeks ago, my roommate called, clearly upset about a phone call he had received to “come over, right now” before even 8a.m.  Within a little while I received a text, “She’s dead.” And that was it, the life of a friend was over.  She and her partner had gone to a resort area over the weekend with friends, and one of them simply did not come home.

I’ve heard small pieces about what happened – a panic attack, anxiety, etc. and I think we suspect some type of heart attack was brought on.  The autopsy report isn’t back yet.  But one simple truth remains, she did not come home.

The days that followed were a bit odd.  Flip flops discarded on the porch where she had left them gave the impression she would be home any minute.  Friends calling upon her surviving partner, neighbors walking up to the porch with dishes.* I asked the partner, “Are you keeping a list of who brings what?” She said, “Am I supposed to? See, she would have known that. I didn’t.”  I said, “You can. It’s O.K.”

In the case of my friends, death was fairly quick.  No hospital stay, no agonizing illness.  No hard decisions to be made.  And likewise, no one to argue over any decisions. There simply wasn’t time to argue over life saving measures.  She was happy and enjoying life.  And then she was gone.

I did not, and do not, know the particulars of her choices in the way of a will. Nor do I have any reason to know them.  I know she had a partner who loved her.  I know she had more than one grown child and small grandchildren she adored.

And I know that the last 3 weeks I have stressed over getting my own house in order.  I’ve called a friend of mine who is an attorney and annoyed her to no end. I’ve researched laws in my state of residence.  I’ve calculated.  I’ve considered.

 I’ve walked through my home and tried to take inventory of everything MyFella has given me, or we bought together as “ours.” I’ve called or emailed my contacts where I have my modest financial holdings to remember how I’ve set up accounts. I’m making a list.  I’m checking it twice. In short, I’m doing my homework to help my attorney help me get my affairs in order.**

And I am committed to the idea that MyFella and My Family will not wonder.  They will not argue. They will not be left without an idea of what I want to happen. 

Some of the questions put before a person making decisions such as this can be uncomfortable.  It’s fine to say, “I want you to have the power to make my healthcare decisions if I become unable.” It’s another to go through the form and decide how long you want to be on life support, on oxygen, if you do or not want to be brought back.  The medical mysteries of the body are too enormous – who is to know if I would come back a vegetable or perfectly fine? Who is to say if one more day would have made the difference?  And honestly, who wants to be the decision maker,  put to the test for another person?

So I’ll do the best I can.  I’ll make of it what I can.I'll try my best to decide what should happen to me.  I’ll make an inventory of my endless collection of stuff that might make for one good day of a yard sale. And I’ll hope no one ever has to worry about it.