When my mother passed, she left me with a curious predicament. No, it’s not what to do about her mortal remains or anything like that. My sister managed that like the champion that she is, and now my mom sits on top of the family victrola in a shiny, red, urn. Nor did the issue have to do with complex family battles over custody of property or anything like that: what little she had was quickly divided up between my sister and I. No muss, no fuss.