MY SISTER FORGED DAD’S SIGNATURE ON HIS WILL WHILE HE WAS DYING
The paper crackled in my hand and I knew instantly it wasn’t Dad’s handwriting. Not the shaky loops he used in his last weeks, but a clumsy imitation I recognized immediately as Sarah’s. I found it tucked into his old desk drawer tonight, hidden behind a stack of unpaid bills and faded photos from our childhood. Finding it *tonight*, cleaning out his things while she was ‘out with friends,’ felt less like fate and more like a cruel, deliberate mockery.
I drove straight to her place, the engine vibrating through the steering wheel, my hands shaking so badly I almost missed the turn. She opened the door, eyes wide and blinking in the porch light, probably expecting me to cry about Dad again. I just held out the single sheet of paper, unfolded. “Where were you Monday afternoon?” I asked, my voice tight and flat.
She went pale. Absolutely white under the harsh light. “Nowhere important. Why are you here so late?” she stammered, the stale smell of cheap cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes even out here. “This was signed Monday afternoon,” I said, my gaze fixed on the obviously faked signature right above Dad’s printed name. “While he was barely conscious, barely able to lift his head.”
She started yelling, her voice cracking, saying I didn’t understand anything, that Dad *meant* to change it, that she was just doing what he *really* wanted before… before he was gone. But this document gives *her* the lake house, the antique car, everything that mattered to him, and cuts me out completely, leaving just debt. My own sister did this, while he was dying in that hospital bed only rooms away from where she supposedly was.
Then I saw the second document tucked underneath the first one, barely visible.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*The second document was a typed letter, addressed to Dad’s lawyer. It was dated a week before his death, and its content stopped me cold. It detailed his explicit instructions for the will, naming Sarah as the sole benefactor of the lake house and antique car. He explained that Sarah, despite her struggles, always had a soft spot for the things he treasured most and that he was confident she would care for them. The letter also stated that he wished for me to be financially unburdened and that a separate account had been established in my name, enough to cover my debts and provide a comfortable start.
The anger that had been boiling inside me began to simmer down, replaced by a cold dread. My sister hadn’t forged the will; she had forged the signature of a witness to his will. This will was written while Dad was weak but still of sound mind. She was trying to help him out. He was worried that she couldn’t make the trip to see his lawyer, and that the courts might not honor his new wishes if he didn’t have witnesses.
“Why, Sarah? Why didn’t you just show me this?” I asked, the accusation in my voice fading to confusion.
She crumpled, tears finally streaming down her face. “He wanted to tell you himself. He was waiting for the right moment. But then… he got so weak so quickly. And I was so afraid you’d fight him on it, that you’d be angry. He didn’t want to hurt you.”
I looked from the letter to the forged signature, at the desperation in her eyes. “So you thought forging a signature was the better option?”
She shook her head, sobbing. “I panicked. I just wanted his last wishes to be honored.”
The silence stretched between us, thick with the weight of our grief, our secrets, our mistakes. I thought of Dad, his face pale in the hospital bed, his voice raspy but firm as he spoke of his love for both of us. He wouldn’t want us fighting like this.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “We need to talk to the lawyer. Both of us. We need to figure out what Dad actually wanted, and how to make that happen. Legally.”
She looked up, her eyes red and swollen. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Dad wouldn’t want us at each other’s throats. He loved us both.”
For the first time since Dad’s death, a flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, we could salvage something from this mess. Maybe, in honoring Dad’s wishes, we could find a way to heal.