My Father Died. I Asked an AI What to Do Next.

My father entered hospice in mid-January. He chose to do it at home, which meant my mother, who is 83, was going to need help.

I drove up to Palm Bay in early February to visit. I could see within a day that my mother couldn’t do it alone. I didn’t leave.

There’s a physical reality to end-of-life care that nobody prepares you for. Getting a frail man to the bathroom. Getting him dressed. Watching your mother try to hold it together and knowing she can’t do it alone. You just do what needs doing.

Hospice made it possible. I want to say that clearly before I say anything else. The nurses, the aides, the coordinator who answered the phone at midnight. They showed up with calm and competence and genuine human kindness at the hardest moments. If you ever face this with a parent, call hospice earlier than you think you need to. They are extraordinary.

My father, Joseph Richard Newman, passed on February 18th. His 84th birthday.

That night, after everyone had gone and my mother was asleep, I sat in the living room with my phone and I didn’t know what to do next. Not emotionally. Practically. What do you actually do when someone dies?

So I asked Claude.

I didn’t know the right questions. I barely knew where to start. I typed something like: my father just passed away. What do I need to do?

I didn’t ask for a timeline. I didn’t know I needed one. Claude figured that out without being asked. It came back with the first 48 hours, the first week, the first month. Organized, specific, actionable.

That list changed the following month for me.

I didn’t know that in Florida you have ten days to file the will with the county court. Ten days. It’s not something that comes up in normal conversation. Miss that window and you have a problem. Claude told me on night one.

Get more death certificates than you think you need. We ordered ten. Everyone needs one. The bank, the VA, the insurance company, the car title office, Social Security. Order fifteen. You can always have extras. You cannot easily get more later.

Speaking of car titles. Check them now, while your parents are alive. Make sure both names are on them. My mother’s name wasn’t on my father’s cars. That created paperwork I’m still dealing with.

It told me about notifying Social Security within a specific window to avoid having to return payments. It told me to contact the VA immediately. It gave me a checklist I printed out and worked through like a project plan because that was the only way I could function.

My brother Andy lives in Brevard County and was there every day. My brother Derek flew in from Denver when we needed him. The neighbors brought food. The funeral home director was kind beyond what his job required.

But at 1am when I needed to know what I didn’t know, Claude was there.

One more thing.

My father kept a list of passwords. He was thoughtful enough to do that, which is more than most people do. The problem was he had crossed out certain letters in each password, for security (I assume) but not consistently. Different letters each time. No pattern.

We spent weeks playing hangman with his digital life.

Do me a favor. Put this down and go call your parents. Get the passwords. All of them. Written down. In a place someone can find. Unredacted.

You will need them sooner than you think.