Death Letters

Herself's family members have a tendency to try to plan for every possibility:  life insurance, wills, and related documents are all meticulously put into place.  Her Father in particular is very organized; periodically (and especially before any overseas travel or medical procedures), he double-checks all his paperwork and then revises and re-sends a letter containing all the current relevant information to Herself and her siblings.  They all affectionately refer to the document as "The Death Letter."  It's a bit like having an umbrella -- if one carries an umbrella, it seems that it's less likely to rain, and if it does rain, one doesn't get as wet.  Similarly, if one attends to all ones bits and pieces, it seems that it's less likely that one will need to use one's will and related documentation, and even if one does (or rather, one's heirs do), it'll be easier on everyone involved.

It's the time of year when everyone is assessing their respective Death Letters, including Herself.  She's gotten all the paperwork organized, and all that remains is to review and revise the personal letters she has written to be distributed in the event of her demise.  Always sobering, to contemplate one's own mortality. What statement does one leave for one's loved ones, for them to wrap around whatever memories they choose to keep?

Hopefully, the letters will be unnecessary for a long time.  And in the unlikely event that they are, Herself hopes that the paltry words she finds will be enough to let the people of her heart know how much they have meant to her.