Sarah sat at the kitchen table, a tear slowly edging its way down her cheek. A bank statement, a checkbook, and a pile of bills lay in front of her.
Jake, her husband, used to take care of things like that. “Honey, don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. I love you,” he’d say. But now Jake was in the hospital, in a coma. Overnight everything was her responsibility, and she had no idea what to do. Continue reading