Where there’s a will…

Decades ago, my husband and I sat down with our lawyer, Bryan, and drew up our wills. As the parents of five children, I wanted to be sure we had all the legal angles covered if the kids were suddenly without us. Now that my oldest child has reached the age of 18, I told my husband we should probably go see Bryan again and update our wills.

“We don’t need a guardian anymore,” I reminded him.

“I know I don’t,” he said. “Some days, I’m not so sure about you, though.”

I threw him my most intimidating evil eye expression. “Seriously, we need to make some changes in the will,” I pointed out. “We need to name one of the kids as executor of the estate – such as it is,” I added, “and a medical directive.”

“I thought we already did the living wills,” he said.

“Yes, we did,” I agreed. “But to be honest with you, I don’t remember what we said in them. I can’t recall if we gave Do Not Resuscitate instructions in case our hearts stopped beating, although I’m pretty sure I wanted you to pull the plug if I’m brain dead.”

My husband cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Brain DEAD,” I emphasized, “not brain LESS.”

Memo to me: review the exact wording of that directive.  And sooner, rather than later.

I picked up my cell phone and punched in a number.

“Bryan? Hi, it’s Jan. Have you got a minute?”