Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies.
Terse but true – also title of the first Second City show I experienced back in 2012.
A 28 year-old litigator then, I had served both prosecution and defense teams on cases involving untimely death; personally, I had lost loved ones – some suddenly, others slowly. On the advice of a legal mentor, I started improvising in 2010 to enhance my skills as an attorney: both arenas reward deep listening and attention to detail, thriving in the flow of whatever frequencies come.
While death is a universal point of human connection, the circumstances behind each are distinct – because each life is distinct. Who and what each of us grow to cherish creates a one-of-a-kind energetic fingerprint, and conversations that craft posthumous support are among the most intimate and valuable humans share. The stakes for specificity and completeness couldn’t be higher – for when the moment arrives for estate papers to “speak,” the decedent is, by definition, unavailable to correct oversights or clarify intent.
Like most, I learned of estate distribution initially from a vague periphery, memories filtered through the fog of youth, sensing heightened stress and frustration in those tasked with it – my contributions focused around steady delivery of dirges and eulogies.
Songs and stories undoubtedly help humans process death – but wills, too, play a crucial role.
In time, my responsibilities expanded and I learned firsthand: tackling estate management without a plan in place is both marathon and maze, underscored by a playlist of automated messages, busy signals, and staticky hold music.
American households are flexible and diverse; the laws that govern them, particularly in the wake of death, far less so – and asking a human nervous system to navigate legal forms and court filings from the eye of a grief cyclone is a cruel challenge I wish upon no one.
In my work with Mathey & Stern thus far, each client presents a unique set of conditions: families embarking on adventures overseas (and into foreign jurisdictions), parents raising children outside the structure of a traditional marriage, estates in which the principal assets center not only around money, but art, animals, intellectual property, or business ownership.
Thoughtful dialogue and customized documents composed by clear minds gift peace in difficult times, offering swift stability for the vulnerable and the possibility of philanthropy beyond genealogy.
When the grief cyclone hits home, I’ve found that personally and professionally, leaning into humanity reveals a less painful path through the shadows.
You want the human voice, not the hold music.