Apparently, If You Don't Talk About Death, It Gets Confused and Skips Your House.
By This Thing Called Grief
If only it worked that way.
Death is a four-letter word in many homes. Not ours.
I'm fairly certain that when I show up for dinner, people brace themselves the way they would if Uncle Buck walked in trying to convince everyone to buy a timeshare. They know the conversation is probably going somewhere they'd rather avoid.
The difference?
A timeshare is optional.
Death isn't.
Humour aside, one of the biggest reasons people avoid talking about death has nothing to do with denial. It has everything to do with love.
Parents don't want to upset their children. Grandparents don't want to frighten their grandchildren. Partners don't want the person they love to imagine life without them. So they stay silent, believing they're protecting the people they care about.
Their inner dialogue often sounds something like this:
- "I have life insurance."
- "There's enough money in the bank to pay for a funeral."
- "We have lots of time to talk about it."
The reality is that money pays for a funeral.
It doesn't answer questions.
What happens if you become seriously ill and can no longer speak for yourself? Who knows your wishes? Who will make those decisions? How much medical intervention would you want? Who knows whether you wanted burial or cremation, organ donation, or what kind of service would best reflect your life?
These aren't decisions your family makes months after you've died.
Many of them begin while you're still alive, and the rest begin almost immediately after you're gone.
I've sat with families trying to answer impossible questions while wondering if they're making the right decision. They're already facing the unimaginable, and now they're expected to become doctors, decision-makers, and mind readers all at once.
Then, if there isn't a will, the complexity only grows. Legal responsibilities, financial matters, paperwork, family disagreements, and uncertainty all arrive at the same time grief does.
None of this is because families don't love each other.
It's because no one had the conversation.
Maybe you're reading this in your twenties or thirties, thinking, I have decades before I need to worry about this.
I probably thought the same thing... until my 25-year-old fiance died suddenly, just three weeks before my twenty-fifth birthday.
Death doesn't wait until retirement. It doesn't wait until you've finished raising your children, watched your grandchildren grow up, or crossed everything off your bucket list. It doesn't check your age before it knocks.
Talking about death won't make it happen.
But talking about it can make one of the hardest days your family will ever experience just a little less overwhelming. It gives them the confidence of knowing they are honouring your wishes instead of wondering if they got it right.
Planning ahead isn't about expecting to die.
It's about making sure the people you love don't have to wonder if they made the right decisions while they are trying to survive one of the worst days of their lives.
That may be one of the greatest gifts you ever leave behind.
So let me ask you this...
If you had to plan your own final wishes today, what would they look like?
- Would you choose burial or cremation?
- Would you want to donate your organs?
- Would you want a traditional funeral, a celebration of life, or something completely different?
Because one day, someone you love may have to speak for you.
Will they know what you would have wanted?
I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Have you had these conversations with the people you love? If not, what's stopping you?
This Thing Called Grief
Sam Vander Schelde BSW MSW RSW, Thanatologist
Kim Vander Schelde, Grief, Bereavement & Loss Specialist, Thanatologist