On a busy Saturday afternoon in 1989, my wife and I ended up in a fabric superstore in Surrey.
I had built a wooden change table for our little daughter which was to be adorned with some sort of pretty fabric for comfort and aesthetics.
Try as I might to be a good sport, I've always found fabric stores stunningly boring.
She saw colours I never knew existed and admired patterns and textures while envisioning a creation of something lacy, girly. I saw... cloth, lots of cloth, all in basic colours.
Other than briefly imagining myself in some really cool Spiderman long-johns, my interest waned very quickly.
I blurted out to the clerk: "You should have a big screen TV in here so I can watch me some hockey! I'd buy a chilli dog if there was one to be had!"
Blank stares. No sense of humour.
As my wife sorted through reams of material, my eyes glazed over, and I sat on a tiny plastic chair, cupped my chin in my hands, and drifted off.
Just then, three words shook me awake like a house fire, and sent my heart racing as no other words ever could: "Where's the baby?"
I snapped to.
"She was just right there."
I jogged around with increasing anxiety, up and down the isles of cloth, but she was not to be found.
Earlier that month a high-profile child-abduction case had startled parents internationally and the story was painfully fresh in mind.
After not finding her anywhere in the store, I went for the front door, my chest pounding, panic in my eyes.
I began to wildly check people's packages as they left the store, and even asked the clerk to lock the door while I helped with the search.
It might have been overkill, but this was my only chance to be certain.
We finally found her on the floor, in the middle of a round material rack, gnawing on a teething biscuit, content, quiet, and completely safe.
Our innocent little girl had no idea of the fuss we had just been through, nor any sense of why we clung to her with Velcro-like affection for days
afterward.
As our children become independent adults, we
parents panic less, but still worry.
One common concern among my clients is with regard to the maturity level of their adult children in comparison to the sizable estate that awaits them.
Investors have a lifetime of assets built up, but some children will be ill equipped to manage the sudden wealth they stand to inherit.
Young adults might be able to find their way across Europe and back, but money can slip through their hands like water through a child's fingers.
Many have no sense of the sacrifice it took to
accumulate wealth.
If only we could continue to counsel them, even from the grave.
In fact, you can, by virtue of a Testamentary Trust.
Testamentary trusts
A testamentary trust only takes effect once you pass away, and allows you to leave specific assets to beneficiaries without allowing them to gain complete control of them.
The creation of the trust is documented within the text of your Will, with income and capital distributed to the beneficiaries in accordance with your wishes by a Trustee.
A testamentary trust might also be used to:
- outline provision of support for minor children until they reach the age of majority;
- to provide continuing financial support for disabled children,
- to protect a child's inheritance from potential
creditors or a divorce settlement.
There are many other considerations in the
establishment of this very useful estate-planning tool.
Mark Ryan is an advisor with RBC Wealth Management, Dominion Securities (member CIPF) and can be reached at [email protected].
