And I wanted to say, she chose to stay because she’s a good daughter. She chose to stay because somebody had to. She chose to stay because if she hadn’t, we’d have been putting Daddy in a facility and you know he would have hated that.

I wanted to say all of it. I didn’t. I just told him I’d heard him and I’d be in touch.

I don’t actually know if Darlene has a case. I’ve read the will three times and it’s clear. Daddy knew what he was signing. He was sharp, honestly, right up until the last few months, and even then he had his good days. The undue influence argument would have to be about Gary somehow pressuring him, and I don’t think that happened. Gary wasn’t there enough to pressure him. The capacity argument is risky because I was one of his caregivers near the end and I would have to be honest about what I saw, and what I saw was a man who was sick and exhausted but who mostly still knew his own mind.

If Darlene files, it’s going to be expensive. It’s going to take years, probably. It’s going to put me in the middle of something I can’t get out of, because I’m the executor and I know things about Daddy’s final months that both sides are going to want me to say. And it’s going to destroy whatever is left of this family. I know that. She knows that too. I think she’s just run out of other options.

I’ve been sitting here since about seven this morning thinking about a specific thing. It keeps coming back to me and I can’t shake it. Probably two years ago, Darlene called me on a random Tuesday afternoon and she was crying.

Not dramatic crying, just quiet, worn-out crying. She said she hadn’t left the property in nine days because Daddy was having a bad stretch and she was scared to leave him with just the aide. Nine days. I remember I said something useless like “I’ll try to get up there this weekend,” and she said, “No, it’s okay, I just needed to hear somebody’s voice.”

I didn’t go that weekend. I had a double shift. I sent her some groceries through one of those delivery apps.

I don’t know what I’m going to tell her. The deadline is today at five. It’s 11:40 in the morning right now.

If I help her, I’m going against the will I swore to execute. I might be stepping into a lawsuit that tears Gary and me apart for the rest of our lives. If I don’t help her, I am handing my sister a piece of paper that says ten years of her life was worth five thousand dollars, and I am the one whose name is on it as the person who made sure that happened.