TRAVIS HOMENUK

Remember that children’s book, Everyone Poops? It’s a good one, isn’t it? The book manages to express what we all know but don’t talk about. I poop, you poop, your mom poops, even your professors poop. Indeed, we all poop.

Well guess what, folks? We all die too. So we should be prepared for it.

That death is inevitable isn’t exactly a secret. Bodies fade out, memories disappear and people die. But time isn’t always given to family members or friends to prepare for death.

Whether you succumb to a long battle with cancer or you’re turned into minced meat by a bus, shit happens.

My mom has already fought off her first round of cancer, only a year after having both of her knees replaced. I’d love to think that my parents are going to be alive and well forever, but I know that’s not the case.

It’s better to be pessimistic — or at least not overly optimistic — and to look at life and death honestly, than to assume everything is going to be tickety-fucking-boo all the time. Bad things happen to good people. We all know this.

So before I leave the country or get on a plane, I always leave a handwritten will on my desk in a sealed envelope should the unthinkable happen.

Do you know who would assume your student loans if you died tomorrow? Would you be cremated or buried? What kind of funeral would you want? Who would give your eulogy? What would your obituary say? Would your family know whom to notify about your death? What will happen to all of your digital accounts? Do you have your most important passwords written down?

There’s a lot to consider.

Don’t make death any worse than it has to be; be prepared, no matter how old you are.

Maybe it’s just the control freak in me busting out, but there’s no reason why you can’t think about these things and write them down, should you be crushed by a falling piece of glass or decapitated in an elevator accident.

Okay, I think I’ve watched Final Destination too many times.

We need to talk more about death. Too many families don’t talk about will and estate planning and get fucked in the end for being oblivious of or afraid to ask tough questions.

If my mother died tomorrow, I would know exactly what to do in every technical and logistical sense. Hell, we even have joint names on certain accounts to ease the process for my sister and me. I know where her will is, who the executors are, what the will says, where to find the keys to her safety deposit box, how much her life insurance policy is — the only thing I’m not allowed to read until she passes are her journals. (I think she longs to be Meryl Streep’s character in Bridges of Madison County.)

I will never have to ask myself, “Is this what my mom would have wanted?” because I’ve already asked her. We’re at the point now where we can joke about her demise and maintain open communication on the subject.

Naturally, I can’t imagine life without my mom. Even though she loses her mind making holiday dinners and obsesses over the fact that my sister and I always misplace her precious collection of Tupperware, she’s an irreplaceable part of my life.

When she does die, though, I’ll take comfort in knowing our relationship was strong enough to talk about her inevitable demise openly.

I am adamant that children — regardless of whether they’re 20 or 50 — should have these conversations with their parents because I’ve seen what can happen if these lines of communication aren’t kept open.

Your parents might already have everything organized but simply haven’t told you the details. Or maybe they have wills but haven’t updated them since you became an adult or something to that effect. Wills do need to be updated, people.

Don’t make death any worse than it has to be; be prepared, no matter how old you are. Make wills, write out your final requests — hell, have an obituary writing party with your family! Then when someone dies, you’ll be able to grieve properly without worrying about what they would have wanted.

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Graphic: Matthew Stefanson