Page 90 of Negotiating Tactics

My fists were clenched tight, and I forced myself to relax my hands, sit on the couch, and then I picked up the letter again and started reading.

If you are reading it, I want to thank you.

I don’t deserve anything from you, least of all your attention, but I do appreciate it.

You’re probably wondering what I want from you.

It’s okay if you are, because what else would you expect?

I abandoned you, didn’t acknowledge you, so why would I do so now?

You’re probably curious about why I reached out to you.

And why I left you in the first place.

To answer the last question first, I left you because I was weak, and I was selfish.

Not a satisfying explanation, is it?

“No shit,” I muttered before I continued reading.

I wish there was a better reason.

Wish that I could say my father threatened to disown me.

That I was afraid I’d be a bad father, so I ran.

It would be nice to put the blame elsewhere, but I can’t.

I left you because I was selfish, and I didn’t care enough to look after you.

And of all the things I regret in my life—and there are many—abandoning you is the biggest.

I failed your brothers, failed countless others, failed myself.

And I failed you.

I’ve kept an eye on you over the last few years, and I see that you have done incredible things.

I haven’t earned the right to say that I’m proud of you for that.

But I know your grandmother would have been.

Your mother too.

That said, I’ll get to the point.

You’re wondering why I wrote you this letter, correct?

I wrote it to say that I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that I abandoned you.

I’m sorry that I failed you.

I’m sorry that my weakness and selfishness kept your brothers from getting to know you.

And I’m sorry I’ll never get the chance to know you.

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