Dad, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I can't love you the way I feel I should.
I'm sorry I can't feel anything more than pity for the man you've become.
I'm sorry nothing any of us ever did or said meant more to you than the bottle.
I'm sorry I can't love you any more than I already do.
I'm sorry I can't offer you more sympathy, more understanding, more...something.
You've just emptied me out.
I'm a mother now. I am a mom. I have husband and a family of my own and when you try to latch onto me, it drains me.
It takes too much from me and it leaves me with too little to give them.
They deserve better.
I'm sorry I don't have enough within me for both of you.
Except I'm not really sorry for that. I'm sorry I don't WANT to give you any more.
You don't want help. You don't want to change.
And I'm sorry for that.
So much of what I have inside of me came from you. My ability to tell a story. My faith. My imagination.
I'm sorry that you don't have the strength that I have. I know it came from Mom, I know it came from God.
And I'm sorry you can't reach for your own strength. You could find it, if you wanted it.
But you don't want it.
I can't keep doing this anymore, Daddy. And I'm sorry.
Because I don't feel sorry for you. And I'm tired of feeling bad over that.
I do love you. But I don't like you. I don't want to be like you. I don't want you in my life.
I deserve more. My kids deserve more.