Why Preparing For Your Death Is More Important Than Preparing For Your Wedding

Lets start of by being totally transparent: I didn’t write this to sell you something. I wrote it because I wish someone had told me sooner that it didn’t have to be this hard.

Preparing For Your Death Is The Most Loving Thing You Can Do

Weddings are joyful, planned months in advance, curated down to the font on the seating chart. We put everything into making that one day feel perfect.

But if we’re being real—preparing for your death is even more important.

And I don’t say that lightly.

Don't worry-this is just a stock photo. I was too traumatized to take photos during the real thing.

When my grandmother died, I was pregnant with my second child. We were mid-renovation. My entire family overseas on a holiday. Our living room had been gutted. The house was full of strangers drilling and hammering.

I remember standing on the wooden kitchen floor, surrounded by swatches of tile and paint samples—and a two-year-old who couldn’t understand why his mother was crying on the ground. I was completely undone, trying to process my grief while holding my son and holding everything else together.

Memorials, remembrance, renovations, grief. Emotional, and physical CHAOS.

And through it all, one question kept circling in my mind:

How was I supposed to make sure my grandmother—who had played such a major role in my life—was remembered the right way?

How was I going to make sure I got this right?

That moment rewired something in me. I realized that how we prepare for our death shapes how we are remembered. And whether we like it or not, it’s a burden we either carry ourselves—or pass on to the people we love.

Weddings Are Optional; Death Isn’t

Weddings are beautiful. But they’re optional. Death isn’t.

And yet we pour time, money, and energy into planning our weddings down to the lighting schedule, while completely avoiding conversations about what happens when we’re gone.

We act like legacy is something that just happens. It’s not. It’s a choice. A responsibility. A form of care.

Legacy Doesn’t Just Happen—You Build It

I’ve built systems for startups, run operations for nonprofits, and helped organizations get their act together when things were falling apart. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: structure creates clarity. Especially in moments of emotional overwhelm.

The same goes for death.

• Who gets access to your memories?

• How do you want to be remembered?

• What do you want your children or grandchildren to know about you, from you?

When we avoid answering these questions, we leave our loved ones to guess. That’s what happened after my grandmother passed. We were left scrambling to piece together memories that felt incomplete—because no one had ever been told the full story.

Make It Easier For The People You Love

You don't want your loved ones sorting through drawers, voicemails, and fragments of a life they couldn’t quite hold onto.

That kind of loss leaves you breathless. But the logistical aftermath—that’s what breaks you.

Preparing for your death is not about being morbid. It’s about being kind. It’s the final gift you leave behind. It says: “I’ve thought about you. I’ve made this a little easier.”

The New Way To Be Remembered

That’s why I believe in Memorial Tribute Legacy. We’re building something that changes the way we think about remembrance.

Our digital memorial plaques do more than display a name and date. They hold stories, photos, videos, even voice messages—things that feel like you. They live on, accessible with a simple scan, for future generations to visit, learn from, and connect with.

It’s not about legacy in a grandiose way. It’s about authenticity. Continuity. Love.

Where To Begin (And Not Spiral)

You don’t have to create a full legacy plan tonight. Just start somewhere:

• Record a voice memo for your kids

• Write a short letter to a future grandchild

• Jot down three things you’d want shared at your memorial

• Explore services like Memorial Tribute Legacy to curate your story in a safe, lasting way

If you’ve ever planned a wedding, you know the power of intention. What if you brought that same care to the closing chapter of your story?

Because when the dust settles—after the music fades, the renovations wrap, and the chaos clears—what remains is the love you leave behind.