I will admit I'm related to you just long enough to tell this story

A conversation about family heirlooms has brought back some old memories.

When I was 6, my grandmother died, though my grandfather was still alive and kicking. My grandparents were depression-era, so they didn't really have a lot of 'stuff.' Though what they did have was well-cared for and very nice.

My family at the time was (and still is) very close. But mainly the ones who looked after and spend time with my GPs were my father, his sister, and her family. My father had one other sister who had 4 daughters, and each of those daughters had spawn. I mean kids.

I was only 6 at the time, but there is something I remember clearly. My cousins (much older than I and most were already married with families) and a few aunts and uncles were going through GPs very small house and marking items with their initials on masking tape. Hey people! See that old man over there? This is his house and his stuff. And last time I checked, he was still breathing! You wanna lay off the greed for 5 minutes!?! And also the last time I checked, you came to visit this man maybe once a year. Didn't you just get mad at him for not knowing your kids' names? That's because he's hardly ever seen you or your spawn (kids, I meant kids).

Fast forward 5 years to when grandfather dies. Because of his religion, there is no will. Same greedy relatives come pouring out of the highly polished woodwork. And Cousin M? Nice try on getting the house, but Pap had already signed over the deed to his other daughter. The one who remembered him. (Good thinking Pap, I always knew you were a shrewd old guy)

In the end, the relatives that cared for my GPs ended up with very few of his possessions. But we got what we cared about. See while we were busy, you know, actually mourning the death of the family patriarch, the greedy relatives were busy carrying the lamps, dishes and end tables out the back door.