Oy vey. Went to my first financial planner meeting with Marty today. He’s been a bunch of times, but today I was called in as well because apparently they have a theme of “A happy wife is a happy life”. Hmmm. We’ll see, and I’ll be the judge of that.
I usually like to shove the reality of our death under the rug. I think it’s the ONLY subject I do that to. But at the same time, I’m adamant that we at least look into long-term care. My father (meany) did, and we were thankful he did though he didn’t need it. Go figure. I think it’s peace of mind for the kids. So I tend to look at it as a gift to the kids, right? It’s not for us.
But when they had the average age up on the screen as 82….YIKES I screamed in the small conference room.
Marty and Planners: ”What’s wrong??”
Me: There is NO WAY I am going to live that long. Cash me out. Now if you have to.
Me: I’m not kidding.
Marty and Planners: quiet (though Marty knows it)
I was flabbergasted at the age they projected from the means and averages. Do they not know our ailments? But Marty put it in perspective for me when we left and were alone in the car.
Marty: You’re going to be like Aunt Norma, expecting to die any day but living forever. (I’m pretty sure he said this with a defeated attitude.)
THAT, was a scary idea. I figure we got an early start on the kids, I’m good. I am fulfilled. Forget that getting old crap. And the idea of living w/o my man – Yuck – believe it or not.
So when we left I left with the comment that we’d get back to them after I researched the mean age of our death. Then I will do a pie chart and send it to them. We shall reconvene and discuss after that to discuss long-term care and its worthiness.
A few hours into my research, I texted Marty that I was freaking out that he would die before me. He texted back: OK, you die first.
Hey, have a good day,
Little Miss Sunshine