Slipping Away\n\nI was hired to take care of Mrs. Larkin. She was 84, sharp but frail, living alone in a house full of memories and dust. The job was simple: meals, meds, companionship. At least that’s what I thought. Her nephew started showing up more and more. Then her niece. Then lawyers. Mrs. Larkin began signing things I didn’t fully understand at the time. I assumed it was normal estate planning stuff. She would ask me, “Do you think this is right?” and I would say, “If your family and lawyer say so.” That’s something I regret. Over months, I watched assets shift. Accounts changed. Ownership transferred. Everything started moving toward one branch of the family that suddenly cared a lot more. Then she died. And suddenly I was just “the caregiver.” No say. No voice. Just someone who was present while decisions were made around me. The house got sold quickly. The family argued about proceeds. I was asked to leave within a week. Later I found out Mrs. Larkin had been confused during most of the signing. Not fully incompetent, just… slipping. Enough to not fully understand what she was agreeing to. But legally, she had signed. That’s all that mattered. I still think about the moments she looked at me and asked if things were “being done right.” I didn’t know I was supposed to protect her from her own family. Now I do.\n\n— Sarah C.
