I'm sorry, Dad. I wasn't strong enough.

Dad, it's me. You probably wouldn't even recognize my name, I know, it's been... a long time. But I have to get this off my chest, even if you'll never read it. I need to say I'm sorry. So, so sorry.

Remember when Mom got sick? Remember how scared we all were? You were so strong, Dad. You held everything together. You worked, you took care of Mom, you tried to be there for me and Sarah. I don't know how you did it. I really don't. But I... I couldn't do it. I pretended I was okay, I know I did. I smiled, I went to school, I hung out with my friends. But inside, I was falling apart. Every day felt like walking on eggshells. Mom was fading away and there was nothing, nothing I could do to stop it.

And then... then she was gone. And you broke, Dad. I saw it. The strong, invincible Dad I knew just crumbled. You started drinking. A lot. You lost your job. You stopped taking care of the house. And I... I ran. I couldn't handle it. I told myself I was going to college, getting away, making something of myself. But really, I was just escaping. I left you and Sarah to deal with it all on your own.

Sarah, bless her heart, she stepped up. She took care of you, Dad. She kept the house from falling apart. She sacrificed everything. And me? I sent a check every month. A lousy check, just enough to ease my conscience. I visited twice a year, for a few hours, just enough to pretend I was still a part of the family. I told myself I was doing the right thing, building a future, being responsible.

But I wasn't. I was a coward. I was selfish. I should have stayed. I should have helped. I should have been there for you and Sarah. But I was too weak. I couldn't face the pain. I couldn't face the memories. I couldn't face the fact that my mom was gone and everything had changed.

Now you're gone too, Dad. Sarah called me last week. I'm flying back for the funeral. I'm going to see Sarah, and I don't know what to say to her. I don't deserve her forgiveness. I don't deserve your forgiveness either. But I hope, somehow, somewhere, you can understand. I wasn't strong enough, Dad. I'm so, so sorry I failed you both. I carry this guilt every single day.