Every household has one person who knows where everything is. If that's you, this page is about the note you haven't written yet.
Not the big legal what-ifs — the ordinary ones. Which bank the mortgage autopays from. Where the life-insurance policy actually lives. The accountant's name. What the vet needs to know about the dog. If you weren't there to explain it, your family wouldn't just be grieving — they'd be playing detective at the same time.
What is a letter of instruction?
A letter of instruction is a plain-language note that tells the people you love where everything is and what to do first — which accounts exist, where the important documents live, who to call, and the wishes that never made it into any legal paperwork. It isn't a legal document. It's a map.
You'll also see it called a letter of intent or a family love letter, which is honestly the most accurate name. It's the kindest document most families never get around to writing — and the easiest one to start, because there are no rules, no notary, and no wrong way to do it.
Grab the free template
Six sections, one evening, no lawyer. Print it, fill it in by hand, and put it with your important documents.
It isn't a will — and that's the point
A will says who gets what. A letter of instruction says here's the account, here's where the key lives, here's who to call first. The will settles the estate, eventually, with lawyers involved. The letter gets your family through the first days and weeks — the part where someone has to keep the lights on, find the insurance policy, and feed the dog the right food.
Because it's not a legal document, a letter of instruction isn't binding — it can't override your will or your beneficiary designations, and it shouldn't try. But that informality is exactly what makes it useful: you can write it tonight, in your own words, and update it whenever life changes. No appointment required.
One more thing people miss: it's not only for the worst case. The same letter is what a spouse uses when you're in the hospital for a week, or what your sister needs when she's watching the house and kids while you travel.
The six things to put in it
The people to call first
Your family, and the pros who already know you: the attorney, the accountant, the insurance agent, the doctor — and yes, the vet. In a hard week, "who do I even call?" is the question that stalls everything else.
Do this: Name, number, and one line on who they are — "Maria, our accountant, has the last three tax returns." That one line is the difference between a contact and a lead.
Where the documents live
Not the papers themselves — where they are. The will, the deed, the birth certificates, the passports, the insurance policies. If some live in a safe-deposit box, say which bank and where the key is.
Do this: Be embarrassingly specific. "Fireproof box, top shelf of the hall closet, blue folder" beats "in the closet" every time.
Accounts and bills
The banks, the retirement accounts, the mortgage, the utilities, the subscriptions — so nothing quietly gets missed, or shut off. You don't need balances or account numbers. You need a map: which institutions, what kind of account, how each bill gets paid.
Do this: Note which account the autopays come from. That's the one that must not run dry while everything else gets sorted.
Insurance and benefits
Policy numbers, and a real human to call at each company. Life insurance is the thing most often lost — billions in benefits go unclaimed because families simply never knew a policy existed. Don't let a form filled out at a job fifteen years ago be a secret.
Do this: Include employer benefits — group life insurance and retirement plans through work are the easiest ones to forget.
Digital access
Your password manager is the key to everything now — email, banking, photos, the phone itself. Point to it. Don't copy it out. Say which manager you use and where the emergency-access instructions live, and note which email address is the recovery address for the important accounts.
Do this: Set up a legacy contact on your Apple or Google account while you're at it — it takes five minutes and saves your family a legal fight for your photos.
The wishes that aren't in the will
Funeral notes, who takes the pets, the ring that should go to your niece, the things you'd hate left to a guess. Wills are stiff, formal documents — this is the place for the human parts. It's also the section your family will read more than once.
Do this: Bullet points beat silence. You can be brief; you can even be funny. Just don't be blank.
One rule: don't put the passwords in the letter
A letter gets read, photocopied, and left on kitchen tables. So the rule is simple: say where the keys are — don't be the key ring. "Everything is in 1Password; the emergency kit is in the fireproof box" is exactly right. A page of passwords is exactly wrong, and it goes stale the first time you change one anyway.
And keep it current. Date the letter, re-read it once a year — pick a date you already remember, like tax day or your birthday — and touch it after any big change: a move, a new account, a new policy, a new member of the family. A letter that's true on the day it's needed is the whole point.
How to write yours tonight
Don't aim for complete. Aim for started. The template below has all six sections; here's the twenty-minute version:
Fill in the first three sections — the people, the documents, the accounts. Those are what a family needs in the first 48 hours. Leave blanks wherever you don't know the answer; a blank is a to-do, not a failure. Then date it, put it with your important documents (not only in a safe-deposit box, which can be sealed exactly when it's needed most), and tell one person it exists and where it lives. That last step matters as much as the writing — a letter nobody can find is a diary.
Come back for sections four through six another evening. Even a half-finished letter of instruction is a genuine gift to your future family.
Common questions
Is a letter of instruction legally binding?
No. It doesn't replace a will, a trust, or beneficiary designations, and a court won't enforce it. That's also its advantage — you can write it tonight without a lawyer and update it any time life changes.
Letter of instruction vs. will — do I need both?
Yes, ideally. The will is the legal document that says who gets what. The letter is the practical note that says where everything is and who to call first. One settles the estate; the other gets your family through the first weeks. If you don't have a will yet, write the letter anyway — it's the easier one to start.
What should I leave out?
Passwords, PINs, and account credentials — point to your password manager or a sealed envelope instead. And anything that contradicts your will; if the two disagree, the will wins, and the contradiction just adds confusion at the worst time.
Where should I keep it?
With your important documents, somewhere findable — a fireproof box at home is the classic answer. Give a copy to the person who'd step in first. Skip "only in the safe-deposit box": those can be sealed at exactly the moment the letter is needed.
How often should I update it?
Re-read it once a year on a date you already remember, and after any big change — a move, a new account, a new insurance policy, a marriage, a baby. Stale letters mislead the people they were meant to help.
Meet Pip
Pip is a family binder that lives on your Mac and keeps this kind of thing current — he can even draft your letter of instruction from the documents you already have. Leave your email for occasional notes from the nest, and first word when he's ready.