I Messed Up Big Time, Mom

Mom, it's me. You probably don't know I even know about this website, Sacred Posts. I saw you looking at it once, late at night. You thought I was asleep. I pretended to be. I see you, Mom. I know you're not as okay as you pretend to be.

I need to tell you something, even if you never see this. It's been eating me alive for years. It's about Dad.

Remember when Dad lost his job at the factory? The one he was at for like, forever? He came home looking like someone had punched him in the gut. He sat at the kitchen table, just staring. You kept trying to get him to talk, but he wouldn't. He just…sat there.

I was such a little shit back then. I was probably like, 15? All I cared about was video games and what my friends were doing. I didn't understand. I thought he was just being dramatic. I even *said* that, once, when you were both arguing in your bedroom. I remember hearing him yell, something about 'not being good enough'.

What I didn't know, what I only found out way later, was that he was stealing from work. Small stuff, at first. Tools, mostly. Then, bigger things. Scrap metal. He was selling it for cash. Enough to keep us afloat, he thought. Enough to pretend everything was okay.

I found out because I saw him. Late one night, I couldn't sleep. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He was sneaking out the back door with a duffel bag. I asked him what he was doing. He froze. He looked like he was going to cry. He told me not to tell you. He said it was just a little thing, that he’d pay it back. He swore. He looked me right in the eye and begged me. He said he was doing it for us.

And I believed him. I didn't tell you. I kept his secret. I thought I was helping. I thought I was being a good son. I thought I was saving us.

But I wasn't. All I did was let it get worse. He got bolder. He started taking more and more. He got caught. That's why he lost his job. Not because of some downsizing thing like they told everyone. He got fired for theft.

And Mom, he never recovered. He was so ashamed. He was never the same. The spark just…went out of him. He started drinking more. He got quieter. He stopped doing the things he loved, like fishing. He just…existed.

I know it wasn't all my fault. He made the choices he made. But I helped him make them. I covered for him. I enabled him. I let him spiral. If I had just told you, maybe you could have stopped him. Maybe you could have gotten him help. Maybe…maybe he’d still be here.

I know you miss him. I do too. More than I can say. He wasn't perfect, but he was my dad. And I helped ruin him.

The guilt is a monster, Mom. It's always there, gnawing at me. Every time I see a father and son together, laughing, fishing, doing…anything…it hits me. It reminds me of what I lost. What we lost. And what I helped take away.

I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so, so sorry. I should have told you. I should have been brave enough. I was a coward. I was selfish. I was stupid.

I don't know if this makes any sense. I just needed to get it out. I needed to tell someone. Even if it’s just the internet. Even if you never read this.

I love you, Mom. I hope you can forgive me. One day. Maybe.

And Dad…I hope you can forgive me too. Wherever you are.