Winter sucks. Let’s face it.
Outside of that short stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas, there’s nothing enjoyable about 20-degree whipping winds (maybe even less, depending on where you are). Or an avoidant attachment style relationship with sunlight, or hazardous driving conditions. It slows down everything.
Seasonal depression—unironically referred to as SAD in the medical field—is real. At least it is for me. I hate this time of year. The decrease in sunlight disrupts your circadian rhythm, your body’s internal clock, with the sun setting around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Your body is responding to its natural instincts, getting the signal to wind down and rest, yet if you’re like me, you still have so much work and activities to do.
I also feel that this time of the year, more than any other season, we see or hear about others losing loved ones. I have a strange relationship with death. Despite taking on a role where I talk about hypothetical quietus weekly (perhaps to cope with past traumas), I’m not immune to the destructive effects it has on people.
Late last year, my uncle** Stan passed away. We weren’t related by blood, and I didn’t know him all that well. I only met him a handful of times when they came up from Florida to visit for the holidays. I do know that he was a doctor. A cardiothoracic surgeon. And a damn good one, at that.
The only real memory I do have of him was the Thanksgiving around the time I found out I had gotten the job at Ritholtz. I remember saving the news for after the food was prepared, lots of wine had been had, and everyone had their seat at the table, ready to eat. That’s when I told everyone, not just where I’d be working after graduation, but where I’d be working—NYC! No one had ever been so outwardly proud of me before. Needless to say, more wine was had. Stan pulls me to the side and says, when I make it on Wall Street, he wants my stock picks. (Trust me, I haven’t ‘made’ it quite yet, nor would he want them. I’m a walking tax loss harvest.)
So when I got the news that he had passed due to natural causes, this saddened me. That moment will forever be a core memory of mine. However, maybe now that I’m an adult, or “responsible,” or work in finance, I’ve been filled in on the details I was completely oblivious to growing up. I learned that Uncle Stan and Aunt Mary weren’t technically married.
They’d been together for more years than I have been alive, yet they never tied the knot.
And look, there are many reasons why people choose not to get married.
Maybe they’re just not interested in the institution of marriage. Maybe they’ve lost a spouse young, but also don’t want to spend the rest of their time alone, and they just don’t feel the need to go through the hoopla all over again.
Hell, it wasn’t until the Obergefell v. Hodges Supreme Court case in 2015 that same sex marriage officially became federally legal. More and more people are opting out of the traditional path to spend a lifetime together. But even if you do decide to walk down the aisle, the wedding itself and the ways in which we decide to celebrate look increasingly different for my generation. Some—really, most—of my friends who recently did the thing are deciding to pocket their would-be-wedding money and take an extravagant vacation with it. Using what’s left as a down payment on their future home.
Whatever the case may be, a piece of paper does not define the strength of your relationship.
Now, with that being said, unmarried couples will have to accept certain tradeoffs and face hurdles when it comes to estate planning that married couples don’t.
Dying intestate, or without a will or trust, in most states presume that you meant to leave everything to your spouse. However, that’s not a given for non-married couples.
In my home state of New Jersey, if you pass without kids and your parents are no longer around, your assets are split between your siblings. This may be fine, but it also may not be your choice. Especially if you’re in a long-term committed relationship. You can see the chart below for other scenarios. Yet what it doesn’t say is anything about your best friend that you’ve spent the last decade with.
Estate planning allows you to decide who you want to support if you’re not here to do so. Not the government’s template.
Since Mary and Stan never had kids, they managed to save quite a bit over the years. Also, Uncle Stan was a skilled surgeon, and he left Aunt Mary a sizable Roth 401(k).
He did the easy part, making sure his beneficiaries were (correct and) up to date.
Doing so, alongside TOD designations and a will/revocable trust, can minimize probate as much as possible. These documents are crucial for everyone, but even moreso for unmarried couples because the system is not designed to look at your life and see who’s important to you. To be fair, probate can already drag on longer than anyone would like. They’re dealing with drama from multiple families all day. The preset intestacy templates add some structure and momentum to the probate process.
But all that is worst case scenario. What about life today?
Even while you’re young and healthy, there are considerations to keep in mind. Technically, intrayear gifts still have to be less than the annual gift tax exclusion; $19,000 today. While that’s true, listen, I’m not an accountant or a narc.
And for the rare cases of extremely wealthy couples, the lifetime exemption amount is not portable. While most states disallow any couple to use their spouses’ unused exemption amount anyway, the federal government at least allows the survivor to use their spouse’s unused transfer tax shield for a combined total of $30M. Single filers do not have this added benefit.
I write all this while staring out of my window at the 4 feet of snow the East Coast just got buried under. And I’m sure somewhere in here there’s a metaphor for the four seasons and life.
Maybe I just haven’t found my way of seeing the beauty in the cyclicality of Mother Nature yet. The destruction—frigid temperatures and grey skies—that winter brings, and the rebirth— the fresh start and liquidity—that follows.
Unbeknownst to me, I was having a hard time struggling with this time of year, that was until I saved this absolute beauty. She’s barely 12 weeks old. Knowing the winter storm that would hit us on Sunday was coming, I knew she wouldn’t have survived. Alone, trapped, and scared stiff at a construction site where I found her, I decided to name her Rubble. I brought her home just for the night. Which, of course, is how these things always start.
Death on my mind and life sitting right in my hands. Funny how life works sometimes.
Until next time…
