From the time my sons were young, I had a clear plan guiding my financial future: to retire and leave them a substantial inheritance. This intention drove many of our savings choices, reflecting a common intergenerational goal of passing on wealth. Yet, a transformative reading experience nudged me to reconsider.
The book "Die with Zero" by Bill Perkins caught my attention with its striking title and unconventional premise: encouraging individuals to spend down their retirement resources fully, aiming to have almost no money left at their death. This philosophy initially felt radical, challenging long-held beliefs about financial prudence and legacy.
Perkins presents money not as a scoring device to be hoarded, but as a means to craft valuable life experiences. He introduces the concept of "memory dividends," suggesting that the joy and significance drawn from experiences continue to enrich our lives long after the events, rewarding us with lasting memories. This perspective resonated with some aspects of my outlook, prompting me to tailor certain advice to fit our circumstances.
For instance, my husband and I plan to increase withdrawals from our retirement accounts beyond what we had initially anticipated. While this means we may not amass a vast financial cushion, it should afford us a more comfortable and fulfilling retirement than previously expected. This decision, though somewhat unusual for us, aligns with both intellectual conviction and emotional assurance of prioritizing quality of life.
Reflecting on our financial journey, my husband and I married in our teenage years, navigating through college with limited means and living paycheck to paycheck. While we avoided outright financial distress, our budget was tight, and unexpected expenses like car repairs or home damage felt overwhelming. Much like roughly 42% of Americans, we had no emergency fund during that phase, underscoring the financial vulnerabilities we endured.
Recently, I shared the concepts from Perkins' book with our sons, whose reactions surprised and reassured me. Both expressed that they appreciated the idea of us leaving them little to no inheritance. They emphasized their stable financial footing and education, underlining that our sacrificing longevity or comfort for the sake of a large bequest was unnecessary.
Our daughters-in-law echoed these sentiments, underscoring their preference that we enjoy our lives and resources now as we age. They have their retirement plans well in place and do not expect to rely on inheritance from us.
This feedback revealed to me that the aspiration to pass on substantial wealth was a personal desire, not a shared expectation among my family. Such clarity is liberating, allowing us to live in a manner that prioritizes present enjoyment and wellbeing.
For years, my retirement financial planning centered on living off interest and earnings, preserving principal for inheritance. I envisioned these funds as a final expression of love — a tangible reminder to our children of our affection each time they used or thought of the money.
However, contemplating this differently, I ask myself: if we had not accumulated this wealth, would our children perceive our love any differently? If we exhausted our savings, would that reflect on the strength of our relationship? The unequivocal answer is no. Their recognition of love and acceptance is independent of financial means.
Although parenting is multifaceted, it seems evident that what children truly desire is unwavering love and acceptance. These are conveyed through presence, support, and actions during life, not through posthumous monetary gifts.
Our responsibility as parents is to embody these values now, rather than leaving them to be interpreted through inheritance after we are gone.