XPLR | Colby Brock

Rosie

Rosie,

I hope you finally get to see this. There is so much I have to say. Where do I start? I know. I'm sorry. I am so sorry, Rosie. For everything I've ever done to you and your mom. I was a horrible man to you two, and an even worse father and husband.

I got arrested on my third DUI. Surprising, huh? It was only the third time I got caught. Looking back, I wish that I had gotten caught when I was driving with you in the car. They would've taken me right to prison if they did, and maybe I would have gotten turned around in time.

I wasted my life. I know that. I wasted it on alcohol, because it was the only thing that made me feel better. Made me feel better about what happened to me when I was younger, which was the same thing that I did to you.

I never much told you about your mother and I, have I? I'm sure she did, she always loved that kind of thing. And she loved me, as I did her, and I know that too.

We met at a party. Unsurprisingly, I was drunk out of my mind, and I'm kind of glad I was, kind of. I was drunk enough to be confident enough to talk to her, and she was way out of my league. She was sixteen, I was seventeen. She was the prettiest thing, woman, I'd ever seen. She thought I was funny. I was lucky. I loved her from the moment I met her.

Then we had you, and my drinking got worse, but Rose it was only because it made me feel better about my dad hitting me. I'm not using that as a scapegoat, I was horrible to you and I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.

You were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen too. When I saw you, that is. God, I was a mess. I was too drunk to see my only child be born! I looked up your name on the computer, and my God. You look just like her. And you're out there, carrying on her legacy. She'd be so proud of you. So, so proud of you. I'm proud of you.

If you are, somehow, reading this, I know you're probably not taking me seriously, or you're mad at me. And I wish I could've said this in person. If I could, maybe then you and I could've been friends for my last few months. Maybe not. But maybe you'd know how sorry I am.

I tried the whole A.A. thing again. Alcoholics Anonymous actually works when you try. I told them everything. They were really mad at me, but at that point I was about three months sober. I felt horrible. I still do. Every night when I close my eyes, that's all I can think about. I was sure I was going to rot in hell.

But they told me I should turn to God, and I did. I'm not as angry as I used to be. I can't even remember the last time I got super angry (seriously, without beer it's kind of hard). And they pressed me to try and talk to you again, to make amends with you.

I've been searching for weeks now. I couldn't find your email, your phone number, anything. I tried to talk to your professor, Mr. Ling or something like that, but he said you wouldn't want to talk to me. And I knew he was right. He was so right.

It was crazy, too. I showed my group an old picture I had of us, the one of your birthday party? Well I got a call one night and it turned out he had recognized you from one of the tube you videos his son makes him watch with him. It was you! You've grown up so much since the last time I saw you. You look like her, walk like her...

That boy, the brown-headed one, he must be your boyfriend. Well, I lied, once I found out I could see more of you, I watched every video he had on his channel. There were a few of you. He seems like he's a good guy. Colby seems like a good guy.

It's too late for me to really know you as my daughter. In the past I only saw you as a burden I had to pay for, and I even wasted that. I'm not even writing this, my friend from the group is. That's probably why most of the grammar is right, you're so smart if you saw how I really write, you would laugh.

I'm sick. I'm really sick. I drank my liver away, and it's all finally catching up to me. That's why I got sober in the first place, and when I found out there was nothing they could do, it scared me. Death was on my heels, and I was going to die alone.

This whole letter is a mess, and there's so much I wish I could say, but not even my friend can put it into words.

I'm sorry. I'm just sorry. It's so pathetic that that's all I could say to make up for years of abuse and neglect I inflicted on you. I'm a horrible person. I deserve hell, for making your life hell, and I know that. But I love you. I do, maybe I hadn't always, but I do now.

And I wish I could've truly known my daughter. I'm sorry that I ruined your early life. I know you're smart, and I hope you're smarter than I was at that age than to get into drinking to ease the pain. It doesn't help. It ruined my life.

I wish I could've been a better dad for you when you needed me most, when she died. I was selfish and sad, I didn't realize that you were sad too.

I'm going to die with a lot of regrets. Most of them being that I regret not being a dad to you. I would've been happier, and you would've too. So if you're reading this, at any point, know that I'm sorry. And that I love you. I love you. And so does your mother. When I get to heaven, I'll make amends to her too.