“I regret not spending more time with you,” something I never thought I would say until you were gone. Something I will never regret is getting a tattoo titled: “VIII VIII MMXXIII.” The day you passed, August 8, 2023.

I have learned that just because someone in your family has gone down the wrong path doesn’t mean you have to.

For me, the person who made poor choices in his life was my father, and I didn’t know about him and the life he lived until I was 14 years old.

I was raised by a man named Tony, who I thought was my father but wasn’t. My mother and sister sat me down and told me that my real father, Greg, had been out of my life because he had spent time in prison for substance abuse. I had always grown up with a dad, but Tony, I would come to understand, was actually my step-father.

When I found out about my biological father, I felt numb. I remember opening my Messenger account and seeing a message from a “Greg Tincher” pop up. I started putting the pieces together, and I promised myself I wouldn’t give him a chance because he chose to abuse substances over his own child, and went to prison for it. I didn’t even know him.

Then guilt set in, and it ate me alive.

The message read, “Hello son, I am your father. Do you remember that time in Dollar General when some random guy came up and bought you a stuffed animal when you were little? That was me, and I was allowed one day out, and I chose to come see you.”

This message tore right through me, and I felt too bad. He clearly wants a chance to see me, so why wouldn’t I talk to him? Everyone deserves a chance, right?

After months of messaging back and forth, I finally gained the courage to meet him in person. He took me to Taco Bell, and we talked about my plans. I have always been a huge fan of Indiana University at Bloomington. I told him that is where I wanted to go for college, and he reassured me that “you can do anything if you put your mind to it.”

Nothing my father had ever done defined the person he was. Yes, he let substances control his life, but he did not have a single enemy.

My father also told me about a family that I never knew. I discovered I had a brother, a sister-in-law, and a nephew in Tennessee who really wanted to meet me. Hearing this warmed my heart.

A year passed, and we spent a lot of time together, but that next summer, he stopped communicating. I felt betrayed in the moment because he would text me nonstop, and he suddenly stopped. At the same time, I understood he had a life outside of texting me, and I would rarely text him back, so maybe he gave up.

On August 7, at 2 p.m. I received the last text I would ever receive from him.

The message said: “I love you, son.” When I opened this message, I had a gut feeling that something was off and that I wouldn’t respond at all.

After 574 days of knowing Greg, passed away from a heart attack. My mother was the one to tell me the news.

I didn’t know how to feel in that moment, so many emotions. I went to my room, isolated myself from the rest of my family, and cried.

I cried because I regretted not spending more time with him, but I was angry because of the substances he consumed, deteriorating his health. I felt sadness because I would never hear from the man I was just beginning to understand.

I cried uncontrollably until my eyes were completely dry and I couldn’t possibly cry anymore.

At fifteen years old, I was helping plan my father’s funeral, but I did it with pride because I knew he would be honored that his own son was helping plan something so special for him. I didn’t meet most of my dad’s side of the family until this day, but they made it clear they were here for me and called me “the toughest kid they have ever seen.”

Months later, my uncle Bobby, Greg’s brother, would bring his ashes to me while I was at work, and his ashes are in my bedroom today.

When I think about my father today and the path he chose, it makes me feel a bunch of different emotions. To start, I feel guilty for not allowing him to be in my life as much as he wanted. Anger because if he had never consumed substances, he would still be with me here today. Lastly, profound sadness because I was just beginning to understand Greg and what shaped him into the person he was.

My father took the wrong path in life, and seeing his struggles, it leaves me with great motivation to try harder to succeed. Just because someone in your life doesn’t make the right decisions, yes, the probability is higher, but it doesn’t mean you are destined to make bad decisions. One and a half years was never long enough to get to know him, but for that time, I am extremely grateful.

Over the past four years of high school, I have worked as hard as I can. So much trying that I have taken enough dual-credit classes to graduate from high school with an Associate’s degree in general studies, and I was admitted to Indiana University at Bloomington.

I know my father would be proud.

This story was originally published on PHS Media News on February 20, 2026.