I Messed Up Big Time, Dad

Okay, here goes nothing. I don't even know why I'm writing this to a website, but maybe shouting into the void will help. It’s about my dad. He’s… well, he *was* the best dad a girl could ask for. Always there, always supportive, even when I screwed up royally, which happened a lot.

He worked his butt off to give us everything we needed. I remember him coming home late, smelling like grease and metal – he was a mechanic – and still having the energy to help me with my homework or play catch in the yard. He never complained. Never. He just did what needed to be done.

Then I got older, and, I guess, stupider. College, parties, boys… you know the drill. I started pulling away from my family. Didn’t call as much, skipped holidays, made excuses. My dad, he noticed, of course. He’d try to reach out, ask how I was doing, offer advice. But I was too busy being ‘cool’ and ‘independent’ to listen. I thought he was just old-fashioned and didn’t understand my life.

Fast forward a few years, and I’m living in the city, working a dead-end job, and still trying to be ‘cool.’ My dad calls, says he’s not feeling well. I brushed it off. Probably just a cold, I thought. He’s always been healthy. I told him I was busy and would call him back later. I didn't.

A week later, my mom calls, crying. Dad’s in the hospital. It’s bad. Really bad. I rushed home, but it was too late. He was gone. A heart attack. Massive. Unexpected.

And now… now I’m drowning in guilt. Guilt that I didn’t call him back. Guilt that I didn’t appreciate him enough when he was alive. Guilt that I let stupid, shallow things get in the way of our relationship. Guilt that the last thing I said to him was a lie – that I was ‘busy.’ I wasn’t busy. I was just selfish.

I keep replaying everything in my head, wishing I could go back and do things differently. Tell him I loved him more. Spend more time with him. Actually listen to his advice. But I can’t. He’s gone. And it’s my fault. I know it is.

I don't know if writing this helps. Probably not. But maybe, just maybe, someone will read this and learn from my mistake. Don’t take your parents for granted. They won’t be around forever. And when they’re gone, the regret… the regret is a heavy burden to carry.