Every time I hear the word “will,” I’m afraid I don’t feel a sentimental attraction to a deceased loved one. Rather, I see pound signs and want to know what I get out of it.
My husband Kevin calls me a mercenary. But I know from bitter experience how vital a clear will is. That’s why I modify mine almost monthly.
In theory, I leave almost everything to my daughter Hannah, 33, with small bequests to my five granddaughters.
But mercurial should be my middle name, because I’m known for refining the details after every dispute or family fight. (My older sister has been completely eliminated. I was going to leave her some jewelry, but we are currently not on speaking terms.)
For me, a will is an insurance policy that ensures that my daughter and grandchildren receive decent geriatric care, and it gives me a lot of power to exercise over my loved ones.
For Emma, a will is an insurance policy that ensures her children receive good geriatric care.
Which is why I’m surprised when TV presenter Anne Robinson says she has already given away all her money to her daughter and grandchildren, insisting that “they might as well enjoy it now”. Where is the influence on that?
At 57 years old, I hope I still have decades ahead of me. But anyway, inheritance is a term that appears in everyday conversations with my grandchildren, ages six to 16.
Kevin believes there should be an equal distribution anyway; However, it has been instilled in them that if they do not visit me, they will receive nothing.
You would think they would be offended or upset by such morbid talk, but my grandchildren are used to these occasional rants and power grabs. They’ve heard it since they were little. I don’t feel guilty at all – my 90-something parents do the same with me to make sure I chase after them.
And while you often read about high-profile will disputes, with families arguing over whether a will really conveys the true last wishes of a deceased relative, when I go, everyone will know for sure that my will was up to date with exactly what I wanted.
Whether they will be happy with the content is another question.
I threaten to leave Hannah nothing all the time; She thinks it’s ironic and that I’m using it as a dark humor negotiating tool, but I’m not.
The first time I eliminated her was when, in her teens, she cut ties with me and decided to play happy families with the father of her first daughter.
The inheritance appears in everyday conversations with his grandchildren, between six and 16 years old.
He threatens to leave nothing to his daughter Hannah and has excluded her from his will before.
So I left everything to her baby, Elise. Two years later, when she left him and returned to the family fold, I proudly included her again as the main recipient. Truth be told, she would happily leave everything to Elise, my oldest and favorite granddaughter, but Hannah made me promise that she wouldn’t.
Of course, at 16, Elise is already more mercenary than me and is always around my house asking: ‘When you die, Grandma, can I have that?’
She is always looking at my jewelry and my expensive perfumes. I also caught her caressing my Murano glass collection. Elise may only be a teenager, but she’s clever enough to have put a price on everything on the Internet.
I don’t find their approach annoying though. She makes me laugh, quite proudly, watching her do it. She’s a chip off the old block.
However, while I can give clues as to who will receive what, none of them know exactly what is in my will. I protect my own interests at all costs.
Many would see my obsession as macabre, but most days I think about death and dying. And rightly so, because my beloved husband of 18 years, Kevin, now 63, has stage four cancer that has spread to his lungs and lymph nodes. While there are times when I spend hours sobbing at the thought of losing him, I try to stay strong.
Still, the first thing I said after receiving the terminal diagnosis was ‘What’s going to happen to me?’ It’s not my best moment, I know.
The poor man automatically assumed I was planning to remarry. But the last thing I want is another husband (I’ve been married twice before).
Instead, I was worried that, as a widow and a woman who took early retirement from a career in public service at age 48, I would have to look for another job.
I was terrified and wondered how the hell I was going to be able to afford to stay in our house. I am very settled in our four-bedroom house and I don’t want to leave it.
Of course, Kevin leaves me everything in his will, since he has no children of his own.
Emma wrote her first will in 1994, shortly after becoming a single mother.
I know because I’ve seen it in black and white. I even helped him write it. Maybe I was too insistent, because at one point the lawyer asked me to leave the room.
As things stand, I will automatically receive half of his private pension. He has another private one valued at £250,000. You’ve started talking about using it, but I encourage you to leave it there for now.
A pension of a quarter of a million pounds may seem like a lot, but you could well be alive for another 40 years, so it’s natural you’d be worried. After all, my great-grandmother lived to be 105, my grandmother to 95, and mom and dad are still here at 91 and 90 years old respectively.
Since it’s just my older sister and I, when our parents die, we will inherit their house and other property, but we have both been taken out and put back in several times, forcing us to bend, as planned.
As much as I respect my sister, I have videotaped the contents of their house so that nothing is accidentally lost when they die.
My so-called “mercenary” attitude was formed after seeing firsthand the harsh realities of how an inheritance is divvied up over the years.
The first time I attended a will reading was 30 years ago, when my poor mother discovered she only had £3,000 left of her great uncle’s £1 million estate. They had been close, so she was upset and completely surprised.
Then there was my great-aunt, who died, I discovered, last year leaving a farm worth over £1 million.
As a family detective, I called the lawyer because my mother was his last living descendant. But mom, my sister and I didn’t have a penny left. The estate was used for charity. We had lost a fortune and that was, I think, because my mother married an Englishman.
On Mum’s side of the family, they prefer to keep the money in Wales. Once again I was spitting feathers because each of my great aunts did exactly the same thing, they left the money to each other.
I have also failed when it comes to a friend’s will. I took care of a neighbor of hers in her last years, she often bathed her legs because she had cellulitis (an infection of the deeper layers of the skin and underlying tissue) and ran errands for her. She was one of the family, I even invited her to share Christmas with us.
Then, in front of his daughter, he announced that he was leaving me £5,000 (which he had spent mentally). But since this was not included in her will, the daughter did not comply with her wishes and I did not see a cent. I sobbed my heart out and it was a hard lesson to learn. Keep your will up to date!
That probably explains why I found a scheme where, for £200 a year, I can change my will up to four times a year. I wrote my first will in 1994, shortly after becoming a single mother, and for some years since then it’s been a bit of a hokey-cokey thing.
Every time I fight with Hannah, the first thing I threaten to do is disinherit her, and she comes out of the will. It may only be for a few weeks, and I usually put her back on alert because she worries I’ll drop dead before I change her back.
He used to get really angry but now he says he doesn’t want my money. I don’t believe it for a minute.
Hannah says it’s too morbid to make a will when you’re 30. But that didn’t stop her from drunkenly saying to Kevin one night, “If Mom dies first, will you still leave us all your worldly goods?” She knows perfectly well that she will get everything.
What will he inherit? Well, there’s our four-bedroom house, and Kevin and I each own one rental property. Mine is my pension plan.
I also keep valuable jewelry in the bank; I’m too worried about having them at home.
My grandmother’s opal ring is worth a small fortune. That goes to Elise. They are both Libras and Elise was born three months after Gran’s death. I have five engagement rings (no, I never returned them because I think I earned them) and my second granddaughter Isabella is getting the best one of them.
There is also a sapphire necklace and earrings for the younger ones, also kept under lock and key.
Although my granddaughters and daughter know about these jewels, they know that to receive them they need to take care of me. They don’t question my choices… at least not yet!
When the worst happens with Kevin, I will never marry again. How can I be so sure? I don’t want anyone’s adult children conspiring to take my money or my grandchildren’s inheritance.
When I die I want to be cremated and for my ashes to be buried with Kevin’s. His only stipulation is that his ashes not be buried with those of any of my ex-husbands.
At my funeral, Hannah wants Moon River performed (the lines ‘Two wanderers, setting off to see the world’ remind her that I always follow my own path in life), but I intend to write my own eulogy if I receive enough notice. . No one knows you like you know yourself, right?
I’d like to think I’ll be remembered as a generous person, but I suspect I’ll instead be remembered as a lovable, nosy pain in the ass.
As told to Samantha Brick
