We can thank Ben Franklin for teaching us about the two certainties in this life: death and taxes. Those facts haven’t changed since 1776. Or ever. The other certainty is that we all have to deal with both. There’s no escaping the tax man. But a lot of people just aren’t comfortable with the subject of death. Their attitude is “someday.” And I just don’t understand that.

I spent many years as a Hospice volunteer followed by a dozen years on their board. Hospice training taught me a lot about coping with the end of life. I needed and relied on that knowledge in the process of saying the long goodbye to my husband of 40 years. And the training helped again as my mother came to the end of her 98 years.

One of the first things I learned is that many people are not only afraid of dying, they also fear anything to do with the subject of death. Many of us don’t use the words death or dying – it’s passing away or “He passed yesterday.” And that very thought of dying keeps people from making their wills or their advanced health directives.

Most often their reason is “Oooh, that’s too gruesome to think about.” It took me a while to realize that response is short-sighted. When someone chooses not to create a will or health directive, they are making things more difficult for their loved ones. The absence of a will often leads to helplessness with the business end of dying and creates hurt within the family. “But Dad would have wanted me to have his gold watch.” And maybe that’s true. But Dad didn’t say so in writing, and now three people want that watch. Whether it’s money, a house, or Aunt Minnie’s silver, lack of direction is not good for family harmony.

“It’s too morbid. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. Besides, it’s expensive,” are some of the excuses. Wills are not necessarily expensive. Last Will and Testament forms can be found online with the only expense being the notary who determines the signatures are real. That’s relatively painless.

And then there’s the health directive, the living will. Whadda can of worms that can be if the doctors or hospital are trying to determine both state-of-mind and quality of life. Just imagine: Agnes is hospitalized with a broken hip, has struggled mightily with pneumonia, and is now comatose. Tom, Dick, and Harry, her sons, are faced with a decision as her condition worsens. Tom thinks they should keep Mom alive – no matter what. Dick thinks they should pull the plug so she doesn’t suffer anymore. And besides, he once heard her say she did not want a painful end. Harry thinks they should just wait and see. If Agnes had filled out a health directive, she would not be struggling, she would be home in heaven, her preference. With no discussions, raised voices, or arguments among her beloved sons.

My late husband and I made wills when we first married. When our daughter was born, we dutifully made plans for care of the children if the unimaginable happened to us both. Decades passed us into the AARP years and the beginnings of aging. Doctors began prescribing medicine for increased blood pressure and arthritis. The tests came fast – hearing, vision, mammograms, prostate, and loveliest of all, colonoscopies. As senior-hood advanced, we felt confident we had planned thoughtfully.

Thankfully, our golden-aged parents on both sides had wills. And we had no trouble talking them into advanced directives, because they each had strong feelings. They knew what they wanted and especially – did not want – when facing the grim reaper. Back then, we took a hard look at what our aging parents were dealing with physically – literally our gene pools. Suddenly, aging became real, so we created our living wills.

When Dear Richard and I married 12 years ago, we made wills, health directives, and talked about the “what ifs” seriously. After all, we were already well into our senior years. But today’s world requires one more step of preparedness. If you died tomorrow, would your spouse or your children know how to get into your computer?

I bank and pay bills online – credit cards, utilities and insurances. Neither Richard nor my children know how to get to my information. I don’t need my children’s info, but Richard and I certainly need to swap and safely record each other’s. If something happened to me, the house would probably go dark and cold before my accounts could be hacked. This realization was a “wake up and smell the coffee” moment. We began working on it this past Monday.

I know it’s not easy to talk about death and especially the business matters of it. But knowing that most things can be planned for – and then doing it – makes navigating the difficult moments easier. Sadness and grief don’t need additional anxiety. Knowledge, ease, and comfort are the answers. I’m closing in on it. It’s a lot to think about.

Marcy O’Brien writes from Warren and can be reached at moby.32@hotmail.com.