In an age that prefers to look away from mortality, a quiet generation of young adults is beginning to look directly at it — not with dread, but with care. Erin Atkinson, a 27-year-old researcher in London, has already written a will, naming beneficiaries for her car, a cherished necklace, and a charity close to her heart. She is among a small but growing cohort challenging the assumption that estate planning belongs only to the old or the wealthy, discovering instead that a will is less a document about death than a letter of love to those who remain.
Why young adults should write a will—even with little to leave
It was about taking responsibility and making life easier for the people I care about.
Why does a 27-year-old with modest savings need a will at all? Isn't this just financial anxiety dressed up as responsibility?
It's not really about the money. Erin's car is worth £7,000, but the necklace from her partner is priceless to her. A will lets her say where those things go. Without one, the law decides, and her family has to navigate that while grieving.
But how many young people actually die unexpectedly? The report doesn't give us mortality rates for that age group. We know 33 percent have wills, but we don't know how many of those people actually needed them.
That's fair. But the point isn't just about death. It's about the legal mess left behind—bank accounts, debts, digital accounts. Someone has to deal with all of that.
So it's more about making life easier for the people left behind than protecting yourself?
Exactly. Erin says it herself: "It was about taking responsibility and making life easier for the people I care about." It's not morbid. It's considerate.
The article mentions social media accounts and pets as assets worth planning for. But it doesn't explain what actually happens to those things if you don't have a will. That's a gap.
And the cost—is it really accessible? Will Aid is free one month a year, but what about the other eleven months?
Apps like Morby have lowered the cost significantly. But you're right—the article doesn't give us pricing. It says "lower cost" but doesn't define what that means.
The bigger question: is this trend real, or is it just a marketing story for will-writing apps? The data shows 33 percent of 22-34 year-olds have wills. We don't know if that's rising or stable.
So we're seeing one person's story and some statistics, but not the actual momentum?
We're seeing awareness growing, especially through social media. Maslin's TikTok reached Erin. That's real. But whether this becomes mainstream behavior—that's still unknown.
O Pulso
- Only one in three young adults aged 22–34 has a will, leaving the majority exposed to the legal chaos and emotional burden that intestacy places on grieving families.
- The misconception runs deep — most young people believe they own too little to bother, unaware that savings, pensions, pets, and even social media accounts all constitute an estate worth protecting.
- Unexpected deaths at any age are not rare, and without a named executor, even modest financial affairs can trap bereaved loved ones in bureaucratic limbo at their most vulnerable moment.
- Social media is quietly shifting the conversation — founders, solicitors, and ordinary people sharing stories of loss without a will are reaching young audiences where they already spend their time.
- Affordable tools like will-writing apps and annual free solicitor programs through Will Aid are steadily dismantling the practical barriers that once made early estate planning feel out of reach.
In an age that prefers to look away from mortality, a quiet generation of young adults is beginning to look directly at it — not with dread, but with care. Erin Atkinson, a 27-year-old researcher in London, has already written a will, naming beneficiaries for her car, a cherished necklace, and a charity close to her heart. She is among a small but growing cohort challenging the assumption that estate planning belongs only to the old or the wealthy, discovering instead that a will is less a document about death than a letter of love to those who remain.
Erin Atkinson is 27, rents a flat in London, and does not consider herself wealthy. She has nonetheless written a will — directing her £7,000 car to her sister, a gold necklace back to her partner, and a portion of her estate to an endometriosis charity. "It felt really empowering," she says. For most of her peers, the gesture would seem premature. But Atkinson is part of a quiet generational shift.
The statistics reveal the gap. Just one in five adults aged 18–24 has a will, rising to 33 percent among those aged 22–34, compared with 56 percent for those over 55. Sophia Maslin, founder of the will-writing app Morby, hears the same assumption constantly: people believe they don't own enough to bother. But savings, pensions, pets, and digital accounts all constitute an estate — and without a will, someone else will be left to untangle them while grieving.
For Atkinson, two things shifted her thinking: a friend buying a home and beginning to discuss wills, and a TikTok video in which Maslin described her cousin dying young and intestate, leaving the family to navigate a legal maze. Atkinson had also watched her grandmother's will — complex but clear — ease the burden on her family after her death. Writing her own will, she discovered financial assets she had forgotten she held.
Solicitor Eleanor Hodgson underlines the practical stakes. A will doesn't just distribute possessions — it names an executor who can legally manage bank accounts and debts without bureaucratic delay. Without one, that burden falls on the bereaved at the worst possible moment.
Atkinson's will also holds something less tangible: a poem for her funeral, and the drink she would like served. Small details, but deliberate ones. "Writing a will wasn't about expecting the worst," she says. "It was about taking responsibility and making life easier for the people I care about."
The infrastructure to act is already in place. Apps like Morby reduce the cost of drafting a will online, and Will Aid connects people with volunteer solicitors each November to write basic wills for free. The steps are simple: name your beneficiaries, choose an executor, record your funeral wishes, and tell someone you trust where the document is kept. What remains is the harder shift — understanding that planning for death is not morbid, but an act of care for those left behind.
Erin Atkinson is 27 years old, works in psychological research at a London university, and has already written a will. She rents a modest flat, does not consider herself wealthy, and yet she has made deliberate decisions about what happens to her £7,000 car, a gold necklace from her partner, and a portion of her money. She wants the car to go to her sister. The necklace will return to her partner. And she has specified that some of her estate should support an endometriosis charity—a cause that matters to her deeply. "It felt really empowering that I could have that written down to say I want X amount donated," she says. For most people her age, this would seem premature, even strange. But Atkinson is part of a quiet shift in how young adults think about death and responsibility.
The numbers tell the story. According to the 2025 National Wills Report, only one in five people aged 18 to 24 has a will. That figure rises to 33 percent among those aged 22 to 34, and climbs to 56 percent for people over 55. The gap is stark, and it reflects a widespread assumption: wills are for the old, the rich, or both. Sophia Maslin, who founded Morby, an app designed to make will-writing accessible online, encounters this misconception constantly. "People believe they don't own enough," she says. "But actually, if you've got some sort of savings, investments, pensions, your social media accounts, if you've got pets, even funeral wishes, these are all things to think about." The barrier is not the absence of assets. It is the absence of awareness that assets exist at all.
For Atkinson, the catalyst came from two directions. A friend bought a home and began discussing wills. Then she encountered Maslin on TikTok, where the app founder had shared the story of her cousin, who died young without a will, leaving the family to navigate a legal maze. The story landed. Atkinson also watched her own grandmother's will shape her family's experience after her death—a complex document that, despite its complexity, had provided clarity and reduced pressure on those left behind. "Seeing the will written in a way that was very directive showed me you can take a lot of pressure off the family," Atkinson reflects. The process of writing her own will revealed something else: she had more financial assets than she realized, including premium bonds she had forgotten about.
Eleanor Hodgson, a solicitor at Crombie Wilkinson, points to the practical dimension that young people often overlook. "It's not just your assets that it helps because there's still someone that has to deal with your bank accounts and any debts you have, and it's being able to name a person that can legally deal with that without having to jump through hoops," she says. The difficulties of intestacy—dying without a will—are hard to grasp until they arrive. By then, the person who might have made decisions is gone, and the burden falls on those grieving. Maslin emphasizes the obvious truth that young people resist: "The reality is that unexpected things happen at every stage of life."
For Atkinson, the will also became a place to record things that matter emotionally rather than financially. She has specified a poem to be read at her funeral, and the drink she would like served. These details might seem small, but they are not. They are instructions for how the people she loves should remember her. "For me, writing a will wasn't about expecting the worst," she says. "It was about taking responsibility and making life easier for the people I care about." The process did not feel morbid. It felt like care.
The practical barriers to writing a will have begun to lower. Morby and similar apps allow people to draft wills online at reduced cost. Will Aid, a charity program, partners with volunteer solicitors every November to write basic wills for free. The steps are straightforward: name your beneficiaries—family, friends, or charities; choose an executor, the person who will carry out your wishes; decide who should care for your pets; and record your funeral preferences. The final step is crucial: keep the will somewhere safe and tell someone you trust where it is. If a will cannot be found, it creates delays and may mean your wishes are never followed. The infrastructure for early estate planning exists. What remains is the shift in thinking—the recognition that planning for death is not morbid, but an act of love toward those you leave behind.
Citações Notáveis
People believe they don't own enough. But actually, if you've got some sort of savings, investments, pensions, your social media accounts, if you've got pets, even funeral wishes, these are all things to think about.— Sophia Maslin, founder of Morby
The reality is that unexpected things happen at every stage of life.— Sophia Maslin