Wills and Wishes

You must have a will to ensure your final wishes come true. Without one, your loved ones will suffer much more than necessary during a difficult time.

For example, a dear friend, Robert, passed away many years ago. He was a German baker who came of age during WWII and in post-Nazi Germany under the horrific conditions imposed by Russian occupation. His father kicked him out of the house when he was twelve because he didn't want another mouth to feed, and so Robert apprenticed himself to a bakery, sleeping on the storeroom flour sacks at night.

Although starving, he baked bread and pastries all day long and would be beaten senseless if caught stealing a roll. He would sometimes eat "roof rabbits" or cats—when he could catch one.

At the first opportunity, Robert moved to England where his talent shined, even though the anti-German sentiment at the time was understandably high. He even baked for the Queen of England. He was that good.

In time, he emigrated across the Atlantic to pursue the American Dream. He started off working for other bakers, saved his money, and then opened a shop in Breckenridge, Colorado. His business flourished.

We met one day during a trip to visit friends at St. Benedict's Monastery in Snowmass, Colorado. We monks all shared a soft spot for buttery baked goods, so when we passed by the window of a German bakery on our way through the small, high-mountain ski-town, we absolutely had to stop. Here we discovered the bliss of a perfect Napoleon.

Blessed are the pastry chefs, for they make the world happy.

When in Colorado, we always went to Robert's. Over decades of decadent pastries, we became close friends. A grim, imposing German persona was his trademark, but he was quick with a laugh and a bear hug if you showed him a hint of kindness. He loved people, but his life was choked with loneliness and sadness. Several marriages failed, and he was estranged from his daughters. A drunk driver killed his only son.

Robert struggled in business because he was semi-illiterate. He could speak four languages, but his formal education was minimal because of the war. Although a genius at making pastries, his money management skills were appalling. Millions slipped through his fingers.

When his kidneys started to fail from diabetes, he retired and sold his business. He began dialysis treatment, and that kept him going for several more years, but his end was coming.

On a lazy summer evening, I sat with him in his kitchen admiring his rose garden. He gazed at the magnificent hybrid tea roses blooming in radiant reds, yellows, and pinks with an intensity that only the dying can have.

Robert made a few false starts at conversation until he gave up on diplomacy and gruffly blurted out, "When I die, make sure my sister back in Germany gets everything." It was a stunning admission of his imminent death, but welcome. It was a relief to speak openly about such a taboo subject.

Then he showed us his estate plan to make sure we knew where it was.

It was a napkin stuck to his refrigerator with a few lines in blue pen. Even though I was already teaching personal finance at the time, I was out of my depth. I strongly suggested Robert contact a lawyer, but he was stubborn, with strong contempt for the legal system that let the drunk driver who killed his son get away—because he was the Sheriff's nephew.

Either I could try to help, or he was going to die without a will. Then his money would likely go to his daughters, with whom he had a chaotic relationship, rather than his sister who needed the money.

At that moment, I became an estate planner. That doesn't mean I was a good estate planner, but I did the job. We spent the evening working on the key legal documents and had them signed the next day.

An "estate" is not a mansion in the Hamptons—it is all your stuff. It's the wealth you've built up through your lifetime. An estate plan is your directive of what happens to your stuff and money when you die.

He made us the executors of his will and gave us power of attorney for healthcare. We guided his medical decisions as he entered hospice care and was with him on his last day. He died at peace, while we all prayed at his bedside.

As executors of his will, we guided his estate through the court system, liquidated all his assets, including selling his home, and then made sure his sister received her money. The process took about two years, with an incredible amount of work in the first six months.

Even with a clear will and estate plan, it was a huge burden. Without a will, it would have been an incomprehensible nightmare. I'm honored that Robert's last wishes were honored and we were able to help his sister, but too many people forget to write a clear and legal will. Please don't be one of those people; your family doesn't deserve for that nightmare to be their final memory of you.

The information contained in this column is for educational purposes only and should not be construed as personalized investment, tax, or legal advice.