Are You Planning For This?

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Hi friend,

As Brad Falchuk remarked to his wife Gwyneth Paltrow on her Goop podcast this week, we don’t talk about death enough. No one wants to face it, but we all will. Falchuck was there to promote his new, experimental interview series Famous Last Words (not to discuss one of his other shows, 9-1-1: Nashville, starring LeAnn Rimes and Chris O'Donnell – to our disappointment!). For those unfamiliar with the concept, Famous Last Words is a sitdown with a very old person, and the footage is shelved until their death. Perhaps you’ve seen the hubbub around the first one with Jane Goodall?

It’s weighty, thinking of the words you’d want aired to the world after you’re gone. How do you want to be immortalized? But for the non-famous, other questions arise. Like: How will anyone even know I’ve died?

Turns out, some people have a plan for that. Should you? More on this topic in our feature this week — plus a few recommendations for your weekend, below.

Bye,
Your friends at Gloria

My first thought, upon reading the obituary of a friend, was, "Someone must be doxxing her." I had come across it after searching her name online to see what she had published recently. She's a writer at a high-profile publication, and I hadn't heard from her in a few months. If I could pull up a list of her articles, I thought I’d be able to tell why. Maybe she'd been really busy or been laid off, which is all too common in the media industry. Instead of finding her byline, I saw a death announcement.

"It can't be real," I thought. There's no way my friend died and I didn't hear about it. We were only in our 40s. My mind latched onto the idea that someone was harassing her and had put up a fake obituary. But who would do such a thing? She was a sweet and private person. Nothing about it felt right. 

I searched some more and within half an hour landed on her husband's Instagram account, where his most recent post was a photo of his wife and a note saying she had died surrounded by family. My body felt still and weightless, like a day-old party balloon that sinks off in the corner.

How could this be? How could I be sitting at my desk in the middle of the day looking at a picture of my friend who had died five months ago? I'd never met her husband, and she and I didn't have many friends in common, so no one knew to tell me she had died when she did. 

By the end of the week, I'd reached out to two acquaintances who had been friends with her. They confirmed her death and were kind enough to let me grieve with them over email, but they didn't have any more information. If she had been sick, she never said. No one knew anything. I felt ungrounded for weeks.

Reaching middle age is often accompanied by a fatality that comes with a shock, followed by the psychological acceptance of our own eventual death. The older we get, the more people we know who've died, and the more we grapple with questions about how we want to spend the rest of our time alive.

Midlife is also the time when many of us get our affairs in order, drafting a will and signing over power of attorney in the event we become incapacitated. My long-term partner and I had already checked off the most important of these tasks a few years ago. The paperwork was relatively straightforward since we don't have kids, and we did it all without a lawyer. We surprised two friends over dinner one night by asking them to sign as our witnesses, and that was that. I'd even considered whether I wanted to pass on my online account logins using the settings in my password manager (my answer was no at that time). What I hadn't thought about was how people would learn of my death. I always assumed that part would be out of my hands. After my friend died, however, I decided to be proactive.

I'd make a death-notification distribution list.

The idea was simple. I'd set up a distribution list in my email account called Death Announcement. Then I'd write a letter to a trusted person, seal it in an envelope, and write on the front that they should only open this letter in the event of my death. I didn't want my trusted person to be my partner in case we die together. I had three good candidates and, unsure whom to pick, chose one of them at random. The letter would have information for unlocking my email account and instructions to send a message to the distribution list explaining that I died, when, and how.

The "how" has always been important to me. I understand that for privacy reasons, embarrassment, guilt, or the heartache of having to put it into words, many survivors don't want to share the how. When I imagine my own death, however, I want people to know. I want someone to say in plain and clear language what happened to me, whether I die by illness, accident, natural occurrences, homicide, or a self-inflicted injury. If my death cannot be easily explained, they should say that, too. I'm plagued by the thought that anyone might be left guessing.

My parents and grandparents learned who among their friends and community died by reading the obituary section in their local newspaper, going to church, or through word of mouth, a phone call, or a "Did you hear about…" at a community event. I don't have a local paper, no one ever calls me on the phone, and because I move every few years, my sense of community is unstable. I suppose some folks in a position like mine rely on Facebook for news of people's deaths, but I haven't had an account since the Cambridge Analytica scandal. 

I spent about an hour one day scrolling through my contacts and adding names to the Death Announcement group. Selecting who should be on the list was harder than I expected. I didn't include close family and friends since they would presumably be the first to hear about my demise. Wouldn't it be weird for them to get an email about it a week or two later? The tough calls were acquaintances and colleagues I liked, even if we never socialized outside of work; friends of friends, who at times felt closer than that; and my accountant.

The whole exercise tested my narcissism. How dare I presume that anyone cares to know about the end of my existence! Who do I think I am?

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TO WATCH The way that people go on about Keanu Reeves, he might as well be an angel on earth. Perhaps that’s why he was cast as such in the new comedy Good Fortune, which involves a sort of Trading Places-type setup featuring Aziz Ansari (as a struggling food-delivery worker) and Seth Rogen (a wealthy VC type). Also! There is a promising new Richard Linklater film in theaters titled Blue Moon, featuring Ethan Hawke with the worst hairdo we’ve seen on him…ever.

TO TRY Reformer Pilates, with no machine required? Turns out you already own a reformer bed. It’s your wall. The viral fitness app Simple has launched a Wall Pilates Challenge that makes at-home workouts actually feel doable. It pairs low-impact routines with personalized nutrition guidance, helping you feel stronger and more toned without the $3k equipment or gym membership. Take the quick quiz to get started — they’re offering three months free right now. #partner

TO LISTEN We’ve only listened to a few tracks off of Tame Impala’s new album Deadbeat (out today), but so far we’re really liking it. Apparently this is a controversial take, and a lot of true fans are upset because they think he “sold out.” Forget the Taylor Swift dialog, we’re here for this controversy.

TO COOK It’s soup and stew season, and this easy Sohla El-Waylly chana masala (made with mostly pantry ingredients) is such a good fallback. We like it over rice as a warming, filling, and quick weeknight meal.

TO WEAR We’ve been eyeing ME+EM for their take on workwear that feels office-appropriate but also cool enough to wear on the weekends. Our current favorites include a gorgeous white blouse in a lovely fabric, a luxe black jacket we’re dying to wear with denim and dress pants, and comfy-yet-polished knit trousers (swap the pants for a long black skirt for an entirely different look and vibe). It’s chic and effortless, which is the combo we’re always aiming for. #partner

Cameron Crowe reflects on his time as a teen rock journalist and the making of Almost Famous. • Remembering D'Angelo. • Intrigued by Hagfish, which is republishing “out-of-print and obscure books by women.” • The evolution of breast-implant surgery (you’re awake during?). • An extremely honest account from model Karen Elson about Botox, microneedling, and other things she’s tried.

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