Colleen had filed for the life insurance policy — $40,000 — claiming she was the sole beneficiary. She told me our mother had changed it last spring. But last spring my mother could not hold a pen. My notebook, the hospice nurse’s records, and the physician’s notes all proved it. Colleen had forged the signature.
I recorded every call. I kept every piece of paper. My attorney played the recordings and presented the notebooks in the settlement conference. The company settled for many times the original amount. Colleen faced consequences.

I was never the maid. I was the one who stayed. The notebook wasn’t worthless. It was proof that I was my mother’s daughter — the one who was there until the end.
My sister tried to erase me with one calm, cruel sentence. The dated notebooks I kept for three years told the truth instead.