The vineyard is dying under my first harvest

Dear Delyara, My father handed me management of the vineyard after his stroke. He built the business over forty years and still asks from his bed about soil moisture, fermentation temperatures, and the color of leaves in the eastern field. This is my first harvest in charge, and disease has spread through nearly a quarter of the vines. I noticed the signs late. An experienced manager might have acted sooner. We may lose contracts that kept three families employed through winter. Every evening, I visit Father and tell him the grapes look good. He smiles and says he knew I was ready. I am not ready. I walk the rows at night with a flashlight, finding more leaves spotted with brown, more fruit beginning to shrivel. The workers wait for decisions I make by reading manuals in secret. I spent my youth wanting Father to trust me with the vineyard. Now his trust feels like a valuable object I am breaking while he is too ill to see it happen.