I spent the day I turned 42 in or near New York's Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center as my boyfriend's best friend, who I'd become friends with too, succumbed to the disease after a 12-year battle. It was an awful time, watching someone so beloved, with such a big personality, only a year younger than me, go so soon.
Feeling helpless is one of my least favorites states of being, so I tried to think about what I could do to make whatever time I had left on this Earth worthwhile. I decided that morning that I would look into adopting a child if I couldn't get pregnant; that desire seemed all the more urgent amidst so much sadness., because clearly age is no protection against fate. If I died early, I wanted my boyfriend to be protected. After all, he has life insurance on me, through his employer.
"You'd be better off putting your money in a Roth IRA or anywhere else it can earn 10%, ideally, in the stock market," they told me. The idea is that my money would be earning enough that if I passed away, I could simply leave that lump sum to my boyfriend.
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