I tell my clients that they must get a will in place, urgently and without delay, especially if they have dependent children. Yes, it’s life admin and no one likes that, I sigh – but it’s important.
Except – my dirty little financial secret was I actually didn’t have one myself. I’d had some forms from my lawyer sitting on my desk for longer than I’d like to admit, begging for me to finish filling them out. Every time my husband or I went away on a work trip we’d say to each other “gosh, we really need to sort our wills – don’t go and die on me or anything”, only half in jest – only to then leave them languishing in the “too hard” basket for a little while longer.
We had our first child and again admonished ourselves for not having a will. Then we went and had a second child and still didn’t remedy the situation, blaming it on the busyness of having two children under 2. Every time I thought about the prospect of it, I was overwhelmed with the feelings I’d get when my Mum would discuss her will with me as a kid. She’d tell me what would happen and which pieces of her jewellery would be mine if something happened to her and I’d just want to stick my fingers in my ears and sing “LA LA LA” as loudly as I could – because I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her, let alone what would happen afterwards. As an adult, an awful experience after my Dad’s death did nothing to improve my appetite for dealing with the issue.
Earlier this year I recorded an episode of The Prosperity Project podcast with Holly Egerton, the founder of online will company Succession (top notch name by the way). Perhaps it was the shame of admitting to her – publicly – that I didn’t have one that finally spurred me into action. Perhaps she managed to get the consequences of dying without one to finally sink in, or perhaps it was the realisation that not only was I failing in my duty to my family, I was also a hypocrite. Whatever it was, I finally have a draft of my first ever will.
I had – naively – assumed because I was married that should the worst befall me all my worldly possessions would simply pass to my husband so he could keep on raising our children without me.
In fact, if I were to die “intestate” (which is what it’s called if you die without a will) the Administration Act of 1969 determines what happens. In my case, my husband would get my personal chattels but would get only get one-third of everything else – with the remaining two thirds held in trust for our children. I could only imagine how (viscerally) painful it would be if you were grieving, parenting, and trying to pay the mortgage to find two thirds of your partner’s assets are not available to you (and that’s before you consider any greedy or aggrieved relatives).
The Administration Act sets out a waterfall of potential beneficiaries – partner, children, parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles – but if you die without a will and no spouse or relatives, there’s a chance your estate would actually be given to (gasp) the Government. Just this year the Government received nearly $700,000 from the estate of someone who didn’t have a will – although that is apparently rare.
So, we sat down and nutted it out, making a few off-colour jokes to make it seem less horrific, and considered who would be our executors, who we’d trust to raise our children, and who might inherit our funds if – heaven forbid – something awful took all four of us out. We also each had Enduring Power of Attorney agreements drawn up for our financial and medical decisions – that’s essentially our wishes should we not die but not be able to make our own decisions.
Half of New Zealand adults still don’t have a will in place.
Part of me still wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and avoid the topic entirely, but I’ve finally become one of the 50% of adult New Zealanders who do have a will, instead of the estimated 50% who do not.
Well, almost – it still needs to be signed by several different parties, but that’s happening pronto, as I think we’ve pushed our luck far enough.
Whether you think you’re too busy, the subject is too grim, or it costs too much – they’re all just excuses that leave a gaping hole in your financial plan. There are plenty of affordable options available online these days. Your world won’t cave in if you don’t have one – but do it for those whose world would be caving in upon your untimely demise. It’s less about the money – and more about a final act of love.
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