by Dianne Stagner

Created on: October 12, 2008

You don't always have a choice. When someone you love dies, the world doesn't stop. If that person was the household financial leader; the bill payer, the one that put in effect the 401k's, the IRA's, the CD's, who policed the interest rates on credit cards and car payments, chose the best options on life, health and car insurance and set up accounts for the kids college education, then, yes, financial decisions must be made, even though you are grieving.

Such was the case when my husband died of cancer at age 49. He had handled all financial matters for 23 years. I had vaguely paid attention, but usually responded with a noncommittal, "Uh-huh" when he tried to explain how things worked, why he made this decision over that decision. I was the mom, the wife, the keeper of the house. I shopped, cooked and helped with homework. The closest I came to contributing to our financial success was buying clothes at the thrift store or chicken breasts on sale.

So now, my mind and body wracked with grief, my heart broken, I had to take over and keep the family's finances secure. Did I know what I was doing? No. But I knew we would plummet in a downward spiral very quickly if I didn't learn some basics pretty fast. I learned how to pay the bills. My husband, ever the forward thinker, made it easy for me. He had left a list of account numbers, contact names, phone numbers, websites, passwords and method of payment for each bill. He named insurance companies; health, car, house, life and when the premiums were due.

After the second month, I felt that I had bill paying under control.

Then I opened the safe and found our investment portfolio. I looked at the pages and pages of numbers, collected, sorted and filed in 3 ring binders. These were not only our retirement accounts, but also the college fund accounts for the kids. This was important; it represented the entire financial future of my family. I wanted to shove the papers back in and slam the safe shut. I wanted to curl up in a ball and ignore the responsibility, but I struggled to decipher and understand what the numbers meant. It was impossible. I wept with frustration. I had never felt so helpless, so overwhelmed. I realized I couldn't do this alone.

I talked to my father, my Pastor, my friends. They were supportive, but none could really understand the decisions I had to make, nor were willing to give their opinion of what I should do. Finally, I called my widowed sister-in-law. "Get a financial advisor," she said, "find someone you can trust." She gave me the name of her financial guru and a couple of others. I asked around and suddenly I was bombarded with names and companies. I narrowed down the field and interviewed the person reputed to be, not only excellent in financial matters but also a good person, patient and understanding. It was the best financial decision I could ever have made.

My financial advisor started teaching me about investments and gave me time to ask questions, to learn, to research, to decide where the funds should go. Little by little, I became comfortable with being the family financial leader. I won't say I am ready to tackle Wall Street, but I know how to make educated decisions and I know how to ask for advice.

Should people who are grieving be expected to make financial decisions? My answer is yes, but I amend that by saying, "grieving people should not make financial decisions without sound advice from someone they trust implicitly." Whether you turn to a family member or a financial advisor for help, you, ultimately, should make the decisions about your financial future.

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