I Didn't Protect Mom From Dad, And Now It's Too Late

Oh, hi guys. My name is Sam and I'm 14 years old. I lost both my parents, and I think it was all my fault. From that moment on, I decided that I would never hide anything in my life and not make deals with my conscience. That's why I'm telling you my story.

Two years ago, my life was wonderful. My parents had a great relationship and they loved me very much. It was like a movie about a perfect family with a big house and a dog named Roger. But our perfect life ended all of a sudden. My father came home from work looking like someone had died. Dad's company, which he worked for, and where he had built a career for so long, went bankrupt. This meant that my father was now unemployed. We had some savings, but it was clear that he had to find another job. This upset my father very much, and he was depressed because no new position could bring him as much money as he made before. My mother and I supported him as best we could. Even Roger tried to cheer my dad up. A couple of months later we had to sell our house and move to a smaller and cheaper apartment. It was the final blow for dad, and he completely dropped his hands and started drinking.

As time went on, things got worse and worse. My mother worked literally 24/7, and my dad was constantly spending money on alcohol. One day, my mom's patience ran out, and my parents had a big argument. Oh, I remember hearing it all, and how scared I was. Dad was already drunk that night, and my mom's accusations made him very angry. He was furious and started yelling like never before. Then he got up abruptly and walked in the direction of my mother. I thought he was going to do something terrible, and I just closed my eyes in fear. But then I heard a loud bark. Roger barked and growled at my father, and defended my mom. I guess that's when my dad realized what he was about to do. He could have hit his own wife. This thought made him cry like a child. It was clear that my father needed help. And thank goodness dad understood that himself. The next morning, my mother took my dad to the hospital, and the long process for the treatment of addiction began. My father spent several weeks in rehab and was receiving psychological help. Finally, my beloved dad was back. No matter what, my mother and I loved dad very much, and we were always ready to forgive him and help.

After my father returned, our lives began to improve. He finally got a job and we had more money. So overall, we felt happier. Of course, we no longer lived in a big house in a cool neighborhood, but still, mom and dad and I were together. And of course, our loyal and beloved friend Roger was still with us. So we lived like this for about six months, until one night there was a little incident. I woke up in the middle of the night very thirsty, so I went to the kitchen to get some water. And I was very surprised when I saw that my father was sitting in the kitchen in complete darkness. When he saw me, he motioned me to be quiet. And when I turned on the light, I figured out what was going on. My father was drinking. Again. I wanted to tell my mother right away, but my father begged me to not do it. He asked me to understand his feelings. Dad was working a job he hated, and he kept thinking about the time when he could provide for the whole family, and now he thought he was a loser, and it made him sad. My father said that a couple of drinks helped him to numb the heartache, and be ready for a new day at work, and that's how he maintained stability at work and in the family. And if I told my mom, that balance would collapse, and our family would get bogged down in fights again. These words touched me, and I agreed to keep this secret for the sake of our family.

But after a while, I regretted my decision. My mom was on a business trip, and my dad and I were supposed to meet her at the airport. Her flight was delayed because of the weather, and we had to spend several hours in the waiting area. I was playing on my phone, and suddenly I noticed that my dad wasn't around. I got up and looked around for him. And then I saw dad on the street. He had a flask in his hand and he was drinking from it constantly. You don't have to be Sherlock to guess what was inside the flask. I ran to my father and started yelling at him. How could he do this at such a crucial moment? He started making excuses and saying that everything was fine. We would have continued to fight, but suddenly there was an announcement that my mother's flight had arrived, and we went to meet her. I have to say, the joy of meeting my mother overcame all the emotions that I felt while arguing with my dad...


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