Chris Jepson: Lay down with a will

My brother, Uncle Stevie, and I have a family mantra for end times (our own) that goes, “Lay down with a will.” No, this isn’t a plug for legal services although I recommend that, too. I’m talking about owning your death as you lived your life. So much in life is beyond our control because so much of human existence is inextricably linked to (the happiness of) others and all that that implies. One’s death, however, is extremely personal and, as such, you owe yourself—to the degree you willingly take ownership—the “good” end.

My daughter and grandson recently joined me for breakfast. My chickens produce eggs of unimaginable freshness and combined with thick-cut bacon, it’s a simple meal of extraordinary pleasure. Sipping coffee afterwards, contemplating a good moment, I said in passing (pun intended) to my daughter that all you kids (my three children) should identify which of my household items each want upon my death. I looked around and jokingly said, “I’d want it all.” We laughed. I like “stuff” and have collected all my life. I prefer one-offs, as I call original art.

“I want the Kemenyffy and the Shoemaker,” said my daughter, “I grew-up with them always being around.”

“Done,” I responded. We casually discussed other such “estate planning” matters (if “shares” go to spouses should any child, sadly, die before me, etc.). My daughter gets a bit squeamish talking about death, mine in particular, while I’ve never found the subject particularly difficult at all.

I became acutely aware that I wasn’t going to get out alive at about the age of 20, and I attribute that clarity to the birth of my first child. The progression of life is such that the benchmarks of the “process” are crystal clear to everyone. You’re born, you reproduce, you die. Of course, that is life hard-boiled down to its basic steps. In between—some 80 or so years—you live. How one lives (flourishes/copes/ends) is why we read fiction, to consider all life’s possibilities.

About 25 years ago I became infatuated with the mythologist, Joseph Campbell. One of his more famous aphorisms goes, “Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.” That so resonated with me at the time and still does. So much sorrow in the world and death is at the core of most of it.

Oh, I get it, I do. We have this wonderful Technicolor, stereophonic, pleasure-seeking consciousness and then—Whooooooosh!—we’re gone. All of us. None make it out alive. It’s a real pisser for sure. Some fungi have longer life expectancies than human beings. I completely understand why folks seek religion and its assurances of an afterlife. I consider such complete and utter gobbledy-gook but I allow for, “Whatever gets you through the night.”

I had a legal document drawn-up when I experienced cancer surgery a few years back. I am going to revisit it this summer and strengthen the provisions for how I die. I will end on my terms, how I see fit. I have witnessed, of late, far too many examples of human beings reduced to sitting vegetable matter to possibly afflict my children with such burdens. I’ve answered to my satisfaction the old conundrum of, “Would you rather die five minutes too soon or five minutes too late?”

Lay down with a will. With intent.