Who gets Grammy’s teacups?

“Let’s walk around my house, and you can tell me what you want to get after I die,” my Gran said to me during a visit to her small ranch house in Ocean City, N.J. She held a pad of sticky notes and a pen, which she would use to affix my name to the bottom of any bric-a-brac I wanted to inherit.

At the time, I felt completely awkward. Eyeing up Gran’s belongings so I could snatch them up after she croaked just seemed wrong. Not only was it a morbid exercise, it felt greedy, as if I was competing with the other heirs for dibs on china, crystal, silver and knickknacks.

But Gran insisted, so I walked slowly around her living room, past her Kimball Organ, her gilded lamps, her ornate decor, all of which went perfectly with her flamboyant style. Gran followed me slowly, wearing a colorful caftan dress with heels — always heels — with her signature ostentatious jewelry and bright lipstick.

My eyes glanced to the dining room buffet as I searched for something that no one else in the family would care much about.

“Not that!” Gran piped up, mistakenly believing that I was eyeing her crystal punch bowl set. The huge spherical bowl had a lid with an obelisk-shaped spike at the top like a German Nazi’s helmet. It was surrounded by 12 cups on a huge round crystal tray. Each item was intricately hand cut from Austrian crystal with tiny facets that refracted light into rainbows. While I appreciated the craftsmanship, I knew the set would stick out like a sore thumb in my house filled with PCS-move-scratched furniture, hand-me-downs and garage sale finds.

“That’s actually worth some money,” Gran added, using her body to block my view of the punch bowl, making it clear that my choices were limited to worthless tchotchkes only.

Finally, in the sunroom, I spied teacups. “Do you like those?” Gran smiled, approvingly. She stuck my name on the bottom of the set of six, and the painful exercise was finished.

More recently, after my mother-in-law passed, my husband, Francis, and his siblings had to endure an even more cringe-worthy experience called “The Jewelry Grab.” Apparently, the lawyer advising the family on the proper distribution of assets to the heirs instructed the siblings to display my mother-in-law’s jewelry for the heirs to see, then allow each sibling to select an item, one by one, until the jewelry was gone.

As instructed, my brother-in-law laid the jewelry out in a bedroom during a celebration of life party at his house. Francis, who’d had too much to drink, laid on the bed babbling, “I don’t really care.” One brother took only the items he’d given his mother as gifts. Another brother inspected the jewelry closely, rubbing a set of pearls on his teeth. The sister didn’t think her brothers’ wives should be in the room. After tiptoeing around the diamond ring, the siblings agreed they’d save it for the first grandchild to get engaged.

The Jewelry Grab may have been legal, but it ruined the vibe. It made us all feel uncomfortable and embarrassed, as if we were all sitting naked in a sauna together noticing the worst parts of each other.

“Mom, please, I beg of you … before you die, make a list of your valuables and write down exactly who you want to inherit each item,” I told my mother the following week. “For the love of God, don’t make us do a Jewelry Grab after your funeral,” I pleaded, while Mom sat silent, confused by my sudden moroseness.

The death of a family member is never easy. To make ourselves feel better and honor the deceased, we gather with other family members to grieve and remember good times. Nothing ruins the moment quite like splitting up the dead person’s property between the heirs.

As awkward as it seemed at the time, Gran had it right. I now realize how thoughtful it was of her to put my name on those teacups before she kicked the bucket. I just hope she isn’t miffed that I ended up with the crystal punch bowl set because no one bought it during the estate sale.

Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com