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The
End, and after
Some years ago, when I had nothing
to fill my mind with except what I read, I read an article by Maeve Binchy.
In it, she said that she liked to rewrite her will every six months or
so, taking a weekend over it. She'd mentally make a list of all her possessions
and think who'd like what, and what it would mean to them to get it. A
niece would get a clock she always played with as a child when she came
to visit for example, or a group of college friends would get a thousand
pounds between them to have a great night out on her.
This seemed odd then, but I since think it was one of the most useful
ideas I got from all those Saturdays reading the paper from cover to cover
on the kitchen floor. Certainly of more long term use than all the government
press releases and tales of Haughey Evil which swallowed up the bulk of
any given week's news.
Perhaps being the son of a solicitor meant that I had an unusual view
of wills. I was astonished when people would say that they wouldn't make
a will because they'd find it creepy or even bad luck. Making a will,
it seemed, was tantamount to announcing that you'd finished your business
round these parts and were now ready to fade off into the distance. I
saw it as just a piece of business you got out of the way, like opening
a bank account or paying the phone bill. Except you didn't have to do
it every month. Hence my mystification at Maeve Binchy's legacy tinkering.
Except now, I don't think a will is like a bank account. I think its the
goodbye letter that you hope that you'll get to read to people in person,
but that you may not. So you should rewrite it, in the same way you rewrite
your CV, and for the same reason. Its a summing up of what you've done
and who meant something to you along the way. Write one this year and
put it in a box and ten years from now the people who mean most to you
may not be the same. And the people you've met along the way won't be
there at all.
A will isn't about money. Certainly my will wouldn't be. Its about memory.
You remember people because of who they are, or who they were when they
were in your life. And in turn you give them a chance to remember you,
whether you leave them a box of photographs or the lava lamp you shared
in your college flat. Because it will give them a focus for their thoughts,
and a focus on the way you lived your life, rather than the way you died.
So who effected you along the way? A teacher? Send them a book you know
they'd like. An ex? A meal for them and their partner in a fancy restaurant
can be arranged. Your best friend, aged 18 and your best friend aged 28
may not be the same person. But they were both your best friend. So give
them the right gift for who they are now, but one you would have enjoyed
as well. A new stereo perhaps, or a year's cinema pass in UGC. Its a great
game once you start to play it. Its like you can grant the little wishes
of everyone you ever knew, the wishes they forgot they ever had.
The heart of the will of course is what you leave to your family. Your
parents, sisters or brothers as well as the family you gather around yourself
as you live- lovers, husbands, wives, children. And the hardest part is
that whatever you give them, it isn't going to make up for the fact that
they don't have you any more.
So you give them everything else, to keep them secure you hope. But they're
going to need more than just a roof over their head and a well stocked
bank account. That's why writing a good will can make sure that your loved
ones really have something to remember you by when you're gone. If you
find that you don't have many things to leave them to remind them of good
times together, then go out and make some. Take the kids to Wicklow for
a week in a cottage, and go looking for crystals growing in the cliffs.
Take one home and put it in a box. Go to the National Concert Hall for
a concert with your lover and keep the ticket. Train your little brother's
team at the local GAA club and keep the match programs of all the games
they won and lost.
Because when you stop being around- that is to say, when you die- whether
you were in a bed surrounded by everyone you know or at a routine meeting
in a skyscraper, the things that are going to be suddenly cherished aren't
the life insurance polices and savings schemes, important though they
are. It will be these oddments which will become passports back into your
life, and the memories of the good person you were that they unlock in
the people you love, and who will still love you.
As the only life after death we can be sure of is theirs, why not try
to prepare your life for the move from your mind to theirs?
by
Simon McGarr
in memoriam, John Behan RIP and James Ryan RIP.
29th September 2001
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