I have been rewriting my father’s messages before sending them to my sister

My father does not text my sister directly.

He texts me.

Then I turn what he writes into something a person might actually want to receive.

This began three years ago after an argument about my sister Lena moving away. Dad said she was choosing a job over family. Lena said he treated every adult decision as a referendum on him. They stopped speaking except through birthday cards and me.

Dad’s first message was: “Tell Lena her tax papers are still here. If she wants them she can act like an adult and arrange pickup.”

I sent Lena: “Dad found your tax folder. He can mail it or I can grab it next time I’m there. Which is easier?”

She chose mail. Dad mailed it. Crisis avoided.

After that, I became a translation service nobody formally requested.

“Tell her Mom’s birthday is Saturday, in case calendars don’t work where she lives” became “Dad wants to make sure you have Saturday’s dinner time.”

“She only calls when she needs something” became “He was glad to hear your voice and hopes you’ll call again when things are calmer.”

At first, I removed only the sharp parts. Then I began adding warmth that was not there.

When Dad wrote, “Package came,” I sent, “Dad says your package arrived safely and he hopes you’re settling in.”

When he wrote, “Fine,” after Lena asked about his surgery recovery, I sent, “He says recovery is slow but he appreciates you checking.”

The invented sentence worked. Lena called him.

Their conversations remained awkward, but they began having them. Last Christmas, Lena visited for the first time in two years. Dad bought the coffee she likes. She fixed the settings on his television. They spent an hour discussing a neighbor neither of them enjoys.

I took this as proof that my edits had revealed feelings Dad possessed but could not express.

That is a generous interpretation.

The less generous one is that I wrote a kinder father and let Lena build a relationship with him.

Last week, Dad sent me a message about Lena’s new apartment: “Tell her I saw the pictures. Looks expensive. Hope she knows what she’s doing.”

I sent: “Dad saw the apartment. He says it looks great and he’s proud you found a place you love.”

For once, Dad contacted her directly too.

He copied his exact original message.

Lena called me. She compared the two texts and asked how long I had been changing his words.

I told her.

She is furious with both of us, but mostly with me. She says Dad’s cruelty was at least his own. My kindness borrowed his name and made her lower boundaries she had chosen for a reason.

Dad is angry that I made him sound “soft and fake.” He also asked whether Lena really believed he had said he was proud of her. When I said yes, he became quiet.

Now each of them wants the archive.

Lena wants every original message so she can understand which parts of the repaired relationship were real. Dad wants to see every edited version so he can know what she thinks he said.

I have all of them.

Sending both archives feels honest and explosive. Refusing feels like continuing to control the story. Summarizing would make me their translator again.

I believed I was building a bridge. I did not notice I was painting scenery on both sides so neither person could see where the bridge actually led.

Do I hand over every message exactly as written, or is there any responsible way to reveal three years of mediation without detonating every good moment that came through it?