My name is Claire Donnelly.
For twenty years I've been an estate attorney, and I've sat with more families in the weeks after a death than I can count.
I want to tell you about Rachel, because she could be any one of us.
Rachel spent her father's final year doing everything right. She drove him to his appointments.
She learned his medications. She was there, holding his hand, when he passed. If love and devotion could prepare a family, hers was ready.
Three weeks later she sat in my office and said the sentence I've now heard hundreds of times: "We can't find anything."
The deed to the house. The insurance policy. Which banks he used. The passwords.
It was all somewhere in his home — and she was tearing the place apart looking for proof of things she already knew were true, while the grief was still raw.
The accounts had frozen. The court had started a clock she didn't know was ticking.
"I was there for everything," she told me.
"How am I not ready for this?"
She wasn't ready because nobody had ever told her there were two things to prepare for — and she'd only known about one.