Karen had spent thirty years advocating for her son Tommy, who had significant developmental disabilities. She knew his needs better than anyone — the specific therapies that helped him, the routines that kept him stable, the support system she’d built around him over decades.
What kept her up at night was the question of what would happen to him after she was gone.
Tommy received support through government benefit programs that helped pay for his care. Karen didn’t fully understand how those programs worked until I walked her through it: the eligibility for those benefits is based on financial need. If Tommy inherited money directly — even a modest amount — it could disqualify him from the very programs that funded his care.
An inheritance meant to help him could actually hurt him.
The solution was a special needs trust — a structure designed specifically for situations like Tommy’s. Rather than leaving assets directly to him, Karen left them to the trust. A trustee would manage those funds and use them to supplement Tommy’s life in ways the government programs didn’t cover: travel, entertainment, personal items, enrichment activities.
The trust wouldn’t interfere with his benefits. It would add to his quality of life.
We also talked through who should serve as trustee — someone who knew Tommy, understood his needs, and would advocate for him the way Karen had always done.
Karen cried a little at the end of our meeting. Not from sadness, but from relief.
‘He’ll be okay,’ she said quietly.
That’s what a well-drafted plan can do. It doesn’t replace a mother’s love — but it carries it forward.