The Golden Envelope Story
Are there moments in your life that stand out vividly? Almost like they were yesterday? Me too. I know the date well. It was my Dad's 70th birthday. It was a miracle we were all gathered together to celebrate it. Near the end of the day, after all the celebrating and grandkids and great-grandkids were occupied outside playing, my dad came up to me and started a conversation.
"Sis, I need to go over things with someone and what will happen when I die." My dad is like me, he doesn't pull any punches. He says what is on his mind. But I like that about him. However, this topic brought a lump into my throat.
"Now?" I replied. He was already sitting down at the table where I was and pulled out an envelope full of his important papers and handed me a notebook and pen. "Yes, one of these days you will be glad we did and your momma just doesn't want to deal with this. And, I know your momma and once I am gone she definitely will not be able to handle all this stuff. I have a lot of military and government stuff and they like things to be just so."
So there we were, my dad and I, going through life policies, cancer policies, burial policies, military DD214, copies of important things that would be needed for an obituary. We even had a list of all the places that would need to be contacted and how many death certificates would probably be required. That was tough.
Four years, and 3 days later, the moment came when the significance, and importance, of that critical conversation hit home. My Dad, my hero, ended his journey here to begin an eternal one where he was not reachable to answer any important questions. I walked into his home that was bustling with loved ones, past the table where we had previously sat to plan for this moment, and into his bedroom and retrieved "our envelope."
My hands were probably shaking. My throat was tight with controlled emotion and my eyes were going to betray me and flood down my face. I closed my eyes and whispered, "Thank you Dad. Thank you!" I opened the envelope, pulled out the important papers, opened my laptop and grabbed my cell phone to start the tedious process of "business" that had to be done when someone passes from this life to the next. It kept me busy, and it was actually a process that executed seamlessly due to his pre-planning and knowing us all too well.
He was right. Mom was a mess. His sons were emotionally torn and his other daughter was busy with guests and logging people who were coming by and bringing flowers, cards, and food. I was off in a room tending to "business." There was not one thing he missed in the details. We had no doubts of what he wanted. There was no arguing with one another over silly things. It was outlined.
My dad and I did not have a fancy, shiny, golden envelope, for all his important papers, we just had the plain manila envelope, but those contents were worth gold within it, and that was the important thing. Filling it. Taking the time to think ahead. Just because... well... just because you love the ones you will leave behind.
I sell life insurance, along with many other types of insurance, but this area of protection holds a very special place in my heart. The Golden Envelope program at my agency was created by my dad years ago, so I keep it going, in honor of him. I know he would like this idea.
Yesterday, April 4th, 2022, would have been his 82nd birthday. He was born 4/4/40. My dad's birthdate is also the last four digits of my agency's phone number. When I give out the phone number, it is like saying, "Just phone home..."
And THAT is my golden envelope story.
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