Discussing Grave Matters

During the month of Elul, with Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur looming ahead, our thoughts tend to become more attuned to the realities of life and death. We wonder whether the New Year will bring with it several mazel tovs and the blessings of good health; consistent parnassah; shalom bayit and nachat. Or if we will be met with grim news from a doctor, a policeman or a grim-faced rabbi.

During the Yomim Noraim, especially with the chanting of Netana Tokef, we will be starkly reminded of the fragility of our lives. Our earthly continuation will be decided on an individual basis – who will live and who will die – and the manner of the petira. The davening lists so many ways in which a human being is vulnerable in terms of losing his life – illness, drowning, fire, starvation and dehydration, stoning (I was told car crashes are the equivalent) – whether prematurely and violently or peacefully at a very old age.

Frankly, I never understood the reaction to a new year in the secular world. It is one of gratuitous celebration, all-night partying, excessive eating, getting nauseously drunk, and mindlessly cheering and embracing the upcoming year. The celebrants have no clue as to what lies ahead and, yet, they blindly welcome a year that might be a horrific one.

Sometimes, when I read about a young, healthy person dying in an unlikely manner – perhaps an avalanche while skiing, or a boating accident, or by a random bullet shot from a distance – I wonder if he/she would have partied so hard if there would have been a single thought that the year might bring with it irreversible loss, deep regret, soul-destroying guilt, or huge financial reversal. Would they instead have faced the new year in supplication and prayer, begging G-d to be merciful?

As tiring and draining as it is to be in shul for so many hours on Rosh Hashanah, and to fast and daven for seemingly endless hours on Yom Kippur, it is a gift from Hashem to be able to petition Him in His Celestial Court.

From our end, however, no matter what Hashem in His wisdom decrees, we have to do our part to “very much watch over our souls.”

Yet being young, healthy, and having “unfinished business” does not prevent the Malach HaMavet from doing his job.

But while it is a mitzvah to put on seatbelts, drive undistracted, wear life vests, eat healthy, exercise, and refrain from smoking or taking drugs, since we do not know when we will go to the Next World, we should “watch over” those we leave behind by minimizing their burden at a time of extreme grief and distraction.

This can, to some extent, be achieved by having a will, letting your loved ones know where you are to be buried, and advising them of your assets and where to locate them.

This practical, but not so welcome thought forcefully came to mind with the unexpected injuries, mostly through falls, and sudden death of people I knew. One had been in shul that morning and was athletic. But had a massive heart attack later in the day. Another was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor and died within weeks. Only one had pre-paid plots.

Their kids had urged their parents to talk about “grave matters” but there is a mindset that it’s unlucky to mention death and doing so is inviting death in. As a cancer patient, since 1993, baruch Hashem,I find a similar attitude, with many in our community not willing to say that word, but referring it to “yene machla.” The other’s disease.

But while there are people open to discussing burial – it’s complicated.

The reality for many frum Jews is that parents live in one geographical area, and their kids may be scattered across the U.S., or Israel, or Europe. Families need to have a consensus as what makes sense for where to lay their parents to rest at 120.

A few years ago, my kids wouldn't have known where to place me. They lived in two different states and I was in Canada. I kind of joked that since I had nowhere to “go” when I “go” that was “convenient,” I was just going to have to live long enough for Mashiach to arrive.

However, their aliyah made it a no brainer. As did mine in May.

Having had thyroid cancer at age 39, it was crucial to have a will, a legal document directing how my assets would be split and who would finish raising my teenage children.

A will pretty much guarantees that your “will” will be honored and put into effect. Otherwise, it can get messy with feuding relatives or even the government getting a portion of your hard-earned monies. So many families have been shattered by parents who were in denial about their future demise, and postponed drawing up a will, leaving behind children and grandchildren hurt, resentful and furious at each other.

Halachic medical wills should be drawn up as well with input from the parents as to how they should be cared for. Often children bitterly disagree on end-of-life care.

Not an easy “parsha” for families, but an inevitable one. And one to face head on.