What Happens To My Children If I Die?

My father’s mother died when I was around three years-old or so. Forty years later I don’t have more than a handful of memories and I am not entirely sure how accurate those are.

But I remember lots of things that happened in between the time that grandma died and grandpa got remarried. One of those memories includes a time where I wondered who would take care of my daddy if his mommy was dead. Kind of funny to think about it now, because as a father it is not even a question to me.

Dads take care of our children, but when you are five and dad works to some extent your focus naturally goes to mom.

Anyway, when my wife was pregnant with our son I went through the usual gamut of thoughts, feelings and ideas. I wondered if I would be as good a father as my own. I worried about how long it would take me to save up for a house and wondered if my child (we didn’t know the sex of the baby) would be a boy or a girl.

I wondered what kind of person would they be and tried to figure out what kind of father I would be. I wasn’t afraid of being a parent. I spent years working with children as a camp counselor, youth advisor and a teacher.

Fast forward a year and some months and my world has changed dramatically. I have a beautiful son and a house. It is September 11, 2001 and I am watching the towers fall.  My sister, BIL and nephew live in the city. My BIL is a doc at St. Vincents. I hear reports that they have taken some of the survivors there.

Little Jack is playing with his blocks. He builds towers and knocks them down. My sister confirms that her family is fine but that only takes some of the edge off of me. I keep looking at the little boy who is oblivious to the chaos on the television set and I think about what I have to do to protect him.

Jack The Blogger

It is May of 2004 and I am playing around with a new hobby called blogging.  They tell me it is sort of like an online journal. I start writing but I am not really sure if it is something that I am going to keep up.  Writing is something that I used to do, it is not how I pay the bills. Some time passes and I stumble through some awful posts and then a question my son asks changes things.

I write a post called  Death- My Son Asked Me Not to Die and I realize that this blogging thing might be worth taking more seriously. As more time passes I use my corner of cyberspace to record my thoughts about life. I ask hard questions like If You Died, Who Would Take Care Of Your Children and I spend more than a few minutes thinking about the answers.

At some point in time I start referring to myself as a dad blogger who knows a few things about social media. My posts aren’t solely focused on children and parenting. Sometimes I write about other things like Stupid Blog Tricks- The Difference Between The Best & Most Popular.

But at its core this place is still where I ask hard questions. Every now and then I revisit them.

What Happens To My Children If I Die?

When 9/11 hit I took a hard look at my finances and insurance. More specifically I made a point to explore my life insurance options. I already had a basic plan through my employer that provided a minimal amount of coverage. But after watching what happened that day I decided that my family needed better protection so I took care of dramatically increasing my coverage so that if something happened it wouldn’t be an issue.

These kids call me dad. It is my job to look out for them. If something happens I need to know that my children will be taken care of. How about you? Have you made arrangements? Do you have a will?

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