None so deaf

I have a small family. Two sisters, that’s all there is. My parents were both only children. There’s no aunts, no uncles, no cousins. Neither of my sisters had children, and I have no children. No kids, no neices, no nephews, no grandkids. This actually makes for a complication-free lifestyle in many areas of my life, but it also intensifies obligations in other areas. If I need family for something, there are limited options.

Now, allow me to stress at this point that I am not in any imminent danger of parachuting out of this mortal airplane just yet. But I am in the middle of a small health crisis, and it behooves me to, you should forgive the expression, put my affairs in order. I live an untidy life, with many loose ends and lots of unconnected sub-compartments. If something should happen (and this doesn’t apply just to the potential of my untimely demise), I need people to know who my friends are, what my wishes are, where I keep the scattered bits and pieces of necessities. I also need to know what people do and don’t feel capable of handling, what they need from me to feel comfortable and happy, what I can do for them. This is not stuff that anybody ever feels at ease with discussing with others in any but the most oblique of ways, but oblique isn’t going to cut it at the moment.

I encountered this problem in the transplant era, and for the most part decided to ignore it because I wasn’t planning on being on first-name basis with Pluto any time in the near future anyhow. I actually still don’t plan on going to any parties that the CEO of Hades is planning on holding in the near future, but this being my third invitation to a dance with Death in ten years, I’m thinking may I need to push the issue a bit this time.

Of course the tricky part is how to get other people into a frame of mind where they’re willing to discuss this. The human approach (or lack thereof) to death doesn’t have a single addressable component. It’s a mélange of emotions to which the only common element seems to be fear/avoidance. Denial is a big part, but denial of what seems to vary from person to person. Denial I could die, denial they could die, denial that things won’t always be as they are now, denial that there’s pain and suffering in the world.

There’s an element of superstition involved too – the whole “summoning the Devil by speaking his name” thing: If we don’t speak about it, it won’t happen; If it won’t happen, we don’t need to speak about it; So let’s not discuss this. I think that’s what’s going on with my sisters at the moment.

I had thought it would be more difficult to get the younger sister to approach this discussion. She was the one who brought balloons and stuffed animals to me when I was hospitalized for a month with the heart condition. The younger sister was traditionally the one whose eyes would well up at the first sign of unpleasantness, and who deflected awkward situations by making the snapdragons in the flower arrangement talk or discussing Pinky and the Brain episodes. Life has toughened her up in the past few years though, and I suspect that if I could talk to her alone she’d be at least willing to scratch the surface of the topic.

It’s the older sister who does the redirect thing now. “Don’t talk like that,” was one response. Quiet sulkiness is another response, which is an effective reaction because my first reflex to it is to try and make her feel better by talking about anything unserious. The older sister was the executrix of my mother’s will, and I when I drafted my own first will five years ago it was a knee-jerk reaction to make her executrix of mine as well. I’m not as comfortable with that decision now, but an unsure if I can undo it without causing strife.

The Prof could be executor, but IF something should happen to me, he’s going to take it hard. I don’t want to put the additional burden of overseeing my minor estate on his head. I’ve approached this subject with him a few times, but he really doesn’t want to deal with it either.

I tried to approach my sisters yesterday during our first annual Celebrate Groundhogs Day get-together, an event I orchestrated especially for the chance to approach this under a kinder, gentler setting. I won’t say that the attempt was a complete dud, but I learned more about where the problems in communication lie than I did about how to fix them. There’s none so deaf as will not hear, and they really don’t want to hear it.

So now I face the prospect of making some decisions unilaterally, and hoping that if push comes to shove my wishes will be respected. I’m comfortable with making the decisions, but not comfortable in knowing that they will be respected.

As I footnote I remind myself that, if there comes a time when this planning needs to actually be acted on, it will not affect me in the least if my wishes are respected are not. The needs of the living would and should outweigh any other needs. There is an undeniable amount of hubris and denial on my own part to think that my best laid plans will actually be the best laid plans for all concerned. In a way, my hearing is the most impaired of all.