Why you should plan your final journey

As the world monitored the movements of the corona virus last week, two women I knew died under similar circumstances that had absolutely nothing to do with disease that is causing somewhat of a global panic. Chantel Demas, a young woman with whom I had attended the University of the West Indies many years ago, died her in TT due to complications during childbirth. Her daughter, Xana, also died. Meanwhile, in New York, a dear friend and former media colleague, Cordielle Street, died a few days after giving birth to her second daughter, Surayyah.

Their deaths came as a shock because they were both still young and very passionate about life. So, I can only imagine the grief and confusion that their families are going through, especially Cordielle's six-year-old daughter, Skylah. It is my hope, though, that although they can't escape the pain of losing their loved ones, that they at least have some financial wiggle room to navigate through paying for funeral expenses, and in Cordielle's case, to take care of the immediate needs of her girls.

Now this is in no way an advertisement for insurance companies, but I believe this is where life insurance policies and indemnity plans become very important. There are many available on the market, most of which can be customised to meet any need. For as morbid as it sounds, I have always felt that avoiding having to pass on the financial burden of my funeral expenses to my loved ones while they are mourning my loss (well I hope they do) should be on my to-do-list. That and having a life insurance policy that will contribute to taking care of my son if I die before he becomes an adult and can financially support himself.

In fact, I have decided to start planning my own funeral so that my loved ones will not have to go through the trauma of having to do it. As in my life, I want to have the opportunity to decide on the details of what happens to me when I die. That way there will be no guesswork such as “what do we do next?” or “what would she have wanted?” Among the questions to be answered on the end-of-life planning sites I visited are:

Which funeral home?

Burial or cremation?

Where do you want to be buried?

Do I want a headstone or grave marker?

What do I want inscribed on it?

Where do you want your remains sprinkled if cremated?

Casket preferences?

Who do I want notified of my death?

Do I want a funeral service, and where?

How long and what time?

Who will deliver the eulogy?

Should I pre-pay funeral expenses?

If not, who should I leave in charge of it?

Do I want to identify a charity in lieu of flowers?

What information and images do I want on the programme?

Another thing that I feel strongly about is talking to children about death, especially if they ask about it. For while children, and even adults, can never be fully prepared for the loss of a loved one, at least knowing about mortality will not leave them blindsided.

"Experts advise parents to be honest and concrete in discussions about death. Avoid euphemisms. Adults use euphemisms to avoid uncomfortable subjects, but children, who think literally throughout a great deal of childhood, may not pick up on these cues," an article webmd.com said.

"If a parent tells a child whose sibling has died that the sibling is sleeping, the child may expect the sibling to wake up. If the parent says the sibling will not wake up, the child may fear going to sleep and not waking up.

"Though the words are difficult to say, professionals agree that parents should use terms like 'die,' 'dead,' and 'dying,'" the article said.

When I was a child, no such discussions ever took place, which is probably why it takes me more time than most to accept it and function normally after I lose someone I love. I was always deathly afraid of death (no pun intended), and it wasn't until I became an adult that I was able to understand that it is a part of the cycle of life, and that it's more practical to be afraid of the living instead of the dead. One of my most outstanding childhood memories of death was when my siblings, young cousins and I were lifted and passed over the coffin of Uncle Tommy, I think so that his spirit wouldn't haunt us or something like that. I didn't work, though, because that memory haunted me throughout most of my childhood.

Cordielle and Chantel, I'm certain, didn't think they would have departed this life under such unfortunate circumstances and at such a young age. I'm sure they had both planned to live to see their daughters grow up and have children of their own. Because as parents, that is the order in which we expect life to go. Unfortunately, its does not always happen that way. That's why it's important to plan for and talk to our children about the unexpected – the possibility that we may have to leave them when they are still very young.

Rest well Cordielle, Chantel and baby Xana.