Public Service Announcement – When I Die…

At our age, we can’t help but think about our eventual demise. We try to make sure things are in order before we go, but you can’t plan for everything.

What got me thinking was a memorial photo I saw on our community bulletin board. At our CCRC, the photo usually comes from our online directory. If a resident never uploaded one, they might get a picture from the spouse. But horror of horrors—they might post what we saw the other day.

It was of a woman who had just passed. From the looks of it, the photo had been taken on her deathbed: head on a pillow, pale as a ghost (maybe by then she was), eyes closed, with a ghastly expression. If she had indeed been a ghost, her first act from the other side would have been to shred that picture.

created by ChatGPT 10/18/25

Then there are the practical issues. A friend of mine lost her husband after years of illness. They thought they had everything squared away—financial setups, 20-page checklist, the works. But whammy—after he died, she was faced with mountains of paperwork they hadn’t anticipated. She spent much of the next year buried in files and forms.

Hubby and I don’t have a will. No kids. But we do know one thing—when I die, I don’t want our money going to the state, which might use it to bankroll campaigns to ban books or yank fluoride out of the drinking water. Imagine that—our life’s savings funding the removal of bedtime reading and cavity protection. At least we’d leave behind strong gums and weak minds.

So “make a will” is near the top of our to-do list—as soon as we move. Notice that caveat. We can always invent a million delaying tactics.

And then there are obituaries. We recently received a beautiful tribute about a friend, complete with history and memories. But the daughter added a note: “Dad didn’t remember what college Mom graduated from, so he picked the one he could recall—Northwestern. She actually graduated from Northeastern Illinois. At least he picked a prestigious school.”

Which brings me to social media. Between Facebook, LinkedIn, X (Twitter), Instagram, Pinterest, and three blogs (two dormant), I sometimes wonder: do I need to train Hubby in all of them? He knows Facebook and LinkedIn, but the rest? That’s asking a lot.

Facebook, by the way, has a ridiculous policy: they want an email from the account owner’s email address to delete an account. Never mind that the account owner is dead. I probably have ten or more deceased friends still floating around on Facebook and LinkedIn. Do I “unfriend” them? That feels cruel. Or do I keep them as digital memories? At least it keeps my friend count up.

Our community has its own Facebook fiasco. A resident once created a page for our Thrift Shop. The shop closed, the resident died, but the page lives on. Despite countless attempts, even our community HR and Sales departments couldn’t make Facebook budge. It refuses to come down. Only the original page owner can delete it. She’s not available. Ah-ha, maybe that's how they keep their Facebook user counts high.

Want to prank Facebook? Go search Bentley Village Thrift Shop. Browse the listings if you’d like, but don’t get your heart set on anything. They closed in 2021. Too bad. I liked the blue glasses in photo three. But wait—I’m supposed to be downsizing.

Anyway, tomorrow I may not make out my will, but I will make sure Hubby has all my passwords. Do I also have to teach him Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram? Or maybe that’ll be my deathbed mission—if I’m able, I’ll close down the accounts myself. (Oh, and this blog too—but since I pay for it, it will vanish on its own when the next bill is due.)

And one last thing: I need to pick a good picture. Maybe I’ll update the one in the

community directory. And on Facebook. And Twitter. And Instagram…

References

Getting Your Affairs in Order Checklist: Documents to Prepare for the Future, NIH National Institute on Aging