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In many ways, death literacy is as important as financial or health literacy.<\/p>\n
We accept the need to plan financially because as Singaporeans, we are practical and we know uncertainty, be it illness, ageing or loss of income, lies ahead. Death is even more certain, yet we often procrastinate or leave preparations to chance. When conversations are avoided, the cost is borne not by the individual alone, but by those left behind.<\/p>\n
Understandably, death is a difficult topic for a variety of reasons, such as cultural norms about filial piety. The mindset that “I don’t need this yet” is another prevalent factor, but avoiding the topic does not make death less real. It only makes the moment of reckoning harder.<\/p>\n
Mr Y was an active 73-year-old until what began as flu-like symptoms worsened rapidly. He passed away two days after being rushed to the hospital. In those final hours, shrouded in shock, disbelief and grief, his family faced difficult decisions but was unsure of what to do or what Mr Y would have wanted.<\/p>\n
Situations like these take place more often than imagined in hospital wards across Singapore. When hard conversations are left until a diagnosis or crisis, decisions about treatment or caregiving roles are often made under emotional duress.<\/p>\n
In Mr Y\u2019s case, there was a deep reluctance to talk about death and dying at home.<\/p>\n
Because Mr Y\u2019s wishes were never clearly expressed, his wife and children had to decide on the ceremonial rites, the photograph for the hearse, where to place his ashes, who to inform on his behalf without knowing if they were right. What they are left with is not just uncertainty, but also a lingering sense of guilt and wondering if they had truly honoured his wishes.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n