A friend called me in a panic. His father had died suddenly, and he had no plans for his funeral—no arrangements whatsoever. He was 85 years old. I understood my friend’s grief and was there to comfort him, but here is what I did not say: there is nothing sudden about someone dying at 85. Not really. 

It only feels sudden because ours is a culture that fears death and does all it can to deny it. We see it throughout our lives—in our obsession with youth, where aging is seen as a failure rather than a natural part of life, reinforcing a deep fear of death. And we see it at the end of our lives, as we use euphemisms like “passed away,” “gone to a better place,” or “lost” instead of saying “died.” Even funeral invitations often opt for a “celebration of life” to soften the acknowledgment of death. 

Whereas dying once occurred at home, and most people would still prefer to die there, death has largely been removed from the home and placed in hospitals. Hospitals, while remarkable places, are filled with aggressive medical interventions that often prioritize prolonging life at all costs over allowing a natural death. This leads to the rise of ICUs, ventilators, and feeding tubes that extend the dying process without necessarily improving the quality of life.

All of this feeds our natural reluctance to plan for our deaths and contributes to our underutilization of hospice and palliative care, which focus on comfort and dignity. 

And who is ultimately hurt by this: both the dying and their loved ones. 

By not planning properly, we leave our decision making at the mercy of powerful emotions surrounding our illness and our dying. And without knowing our wishes, our loved ones are left unprepared as well such that in the final months, and the moments before and after we die, they are frantically trying to figure out what we would have wanted. 

Conversations about end-of-life care are often postponed until it is too late to make intentional choices. As a result, families frequently struggle with guilt and confusion when a loved one dies because they were always second guessing as wishes were never discussed. 

And when we actually die, rather than being able to mourn, our loved ones must make decision after decision about caskets and burial sites—our so-called “final resting place.” Then, there is all the stuff we leave behind for them to deal with. 

To be honest, while understandable, not planning for our deaths is selfish and unfair to our loved ones.

Death Is Not Evil 

In a culture that often avoids confronting mortality, even asking the question of what it means to die well can feel unsettling. Yet across traditions, literature, and personal reflections, we find wisdom that reframes death—not as something to be feared, but as an essential part of life’s wholeness. 

Jewish tradition, too, offers a profound vision of death. Building off the verse: “God saw all that He had made, and it was tov me’od (very good)” (Genesis 1:31), Rabbi Meir, a leading second-century sage, suggests reading tov me’od(very good) as tov mavet (death is good)—a radical reimagining that positions death as an integral part of creation’s beauty. 

Preparation 

A Gift To Ourselves And Our Loved Ones 

To die well requires us to acknowledge and accept our dying. A good death is not only about our own peace but about the kindness we extend to those we leave behind. Our deaths will be hard enough for our children and loved ones; we must not make them harder. Planning for death—though uncomfortable—can be one of the most loving acts we undertake. It is a final gift to those who will mourn us. 

Advanced Medical Directives: Taking Control of Our Final Days 

A good death means having control over our medical care in our final moments. Too often, people find themselves in hospitals, subjected to invasive treatments they never wanted, because they did not leave clear instructions. Advanced medical directives—a living will or durable power of attorney for health care—allow us to articulate our wishes, sparing our families the agony of making difficult decisions on our behalf.

Funeral Arrangements 

Our Final Resting Place

Consider this: there are reportedly over 100 questions and many decisions that a person must answer at the time of a funeral. These choices can feel overwhelming for a grieving family. Yet, when we take the time to make funeral arrangements in advance, we relieve our loved ones of this burden, allowing them the space to grieve without the weight of logistical or financial decisions.

Perhaps the largest questions are the most basic, where and what type of funeral is wanted. A traditional burial, natural burial or cremation? Do you want to be at the same location as other deceased family members? Do you want multiple interment sites for additional family members? And, how can we expect to pay for the cost of these options? Funerals need to be paid prior to the time of need and preplanning allows for these costs to be paid over time, saving the need for a desperate go-fund-me campaign. 

The next set of questions is about the mortuary care and funeral arrangements. From choosing a casket, deciding on rituals to observe and documenting your funeral wishes. Advanced planning gives us time to learn about some elements of a Jewish burial about which we might not be aware. For example, many Jews do not know of the custom of shmirah/being present to a person who has passed away and tahara/the washing and dressing of a person who has passed away. Both practices have deep roots and, when people are educated about them, can serve as a great source of comfort. Planning ahead allows these choices to be made by you, not requiring the next of kin to guess what you may have preferred. 

Finally, the gathering of data is paramount. Questions about vital statistics, legal documents and family history will all be asked. If you were a veteran, you are entitled to military honors, but your family must show your discharge document showing honorable service. Some of these documents and answers will be easily attained by family members, while others may be a challenge to find and extra time may be very useful. 

Ethical Wills 

Passing Down More Than Possessions

Beyond the practical, a good death also involves leaving behind a spiritual and ethical legacy. The Jewish tradition of an ethical will (tzava’ah) allows individuals to share their values, hopes, and lessons with future generations. Unlike a legal will, which distributes material possessions, an ethical will imparts wisdom, love, and a sense of continuity. It ensures that, even in our absence, our presence endures in the hearts and minds of those we cherish. And we draw comfort as we die knowing that they carry what was important to us forward into their lives. 

Letting Go of Our Stuff 

A Final Act Of Responsibility 

We spend a lifetime accumulating things—books, clothing, keepsakes, furniture—but we rarely consider the burden we leave behind when we fail to declutter before we die. How often have grieving children been left to sort through their parents’ belongings, overwhelmed by decades of accumulation? By taking responsibility for our possessions while we are still alive, we spare our children from this emotional and logistical challenge. Downsizing, donating, and organizing our affairs is not just an act of tidiness but an act of love. 

Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich serves as a cautionary tale of an unexamined life leading to an anguished death. Ivan Ilyich, obsessed with social status and material success, faces death with terror, realizing too late that he has lived inauthentically and, even worse, that no one around him will even talk about what is happening. In contrast, a good death comes from acknowledging our mortality early, making meaningful choices, and ensuring that our legacy is one of love, not merely of things left behind. 

By making these choices, we not only ease our own passage but also provide our loved ones with clarity and peace. And in doing so, we need not fear as we walk through our own valley of the shadow of death. We have been brave, responsible, and thoughtful. We have given ourselves the chance to have a good death. 

Conclusion 

Embracing Mortality With Intention And Grace 

To embrace death is to embrace life fully, knowing that we are deeply rooted in the Divine’s infinite embrace. Jewish tradition teaches that we come from the dust, and to the dust, we shall return—but what we leave behind, the love we have given, and the preparations we have made, will endure. 

A good death is not an accident. It is the result of living well, making thoughtful choices, and offering one final kindness to those we love. In planning ahead, in lightening the burdens of others, and in facing our mortality with open eyes, we create the conditions for not just dying well—but living well until the very end. 

And that may be our greatest lesson of all.