Thoughts on Death and Taxes

Once in a while, I surprise myself. Earlier this month, I blocked off March 28 as ‘Tax Day.’ And when the day came, I spent the bulk of it doing four tax returns (ours and two family members). When they were done, I felt so good! It’s not the first time I’ve scheduled a tax day, but it may be one of the few times I didn’t push it off when the day arrived. I am done and filed, and it is only March! For reference, last year they were submitted in May.

(Warning: I am about to talk about financial stuff. I know that makes people feel awkward. You can handle it.)

I was feeling a lot of anxiety about this year’s taxes. My husband retired last year, and we closed our incorporated business. We moved money from an RPP to an RRSP. I started collecting retirement benefits. I’ve also been operating as a solopreneur this year rather than under the incorporated business. And I have a part-time job. I was freaking out about all the changes and possible tax implications. In addition to all those changes, I decided to do the taxes myself. Why pay an accountant? What could go wrong? (Side note: I often think “What could go wrong?” could be my epitaph.)

My anxiety was based on not feeling confident about what I was doing and also wondering if we were going to have a massive tax bill. We already need a new roof and furnace, so a tax bill would be a huge setback. (I am not telling you all of this to solicit your support! It’s the reality of our life.) As it turns out, things are okay. Our financial planner had given us good advice.

After I finished, I felt so good. It wasn’t as difficult as I expected. As I watched it all upload to the Canada Revenue Agency, relief flooded my body. The anxiety disappeared. I texted those people you text when you’ve had a victory and received the appropriate celebration emojis in return. It felt so good to have taken care of things.

They say there are two things you can’t avoid in life: death and taxes. Now that the tax conversation is complete, it is time to shift to death - the other great certainty in life. Unlike our tax returns, we generally don’t have a specific date to take care of things. So, as we age, the need to get things in order hangs over us. We think about some of the details from time to time. We know we should get things in order, but life is full, and we don’t have time or a plan. That is the reason I put together A Year to Live.

In this small group program, we consider what we would do if we discovered we only had 365 more days of life. It’s a theme that has been explored in books and movies. Did you see Last Holiday with Queen Latifah? When she was given less than a month to live she opted to cash out and pursue the things she always wanted to do.

Last year, Bill Nighy starred in Living. It was a similar exploration of how facing his mortality led to a complete change of direction. Unlike Last Holiday, this film was more poignant.

We often avoid uncomfortable things until circumstances force us to deal with them. And yet, when we deal with them, we discover the freedom to enjoy our lives. That’s what you will discover during A Year to Live. I don’t anticipate many of us will cash out and head to Tuscany, but you will finish this year with more clarity about what’s most important to you.

We will start by exploring mortality and what surfaces when we think about our death. We will meet twelve times leading up to our ‘DEADline.”  (I thought that was clever!) During those months, you will focus on the details you decide will bring you peace of mind. You will have the support of a small group of people doing the same work.

No one wants to do taxes or think about death. But the feeling of having taken care of those things is relief. It frees you up to focus on the areas that bring you the most pleasure. You’ll feel lighter and less worried by those gnawing thoughts that you have unfinished business.

There are limited spaces available.

(Also posted on Substack)

Previous
Previous

Aphantasia is real and I’m relieved!

Next
Next

There’s a lot to do before you die.