We remained estranged. He died this month three years ago. On my 51st birthday it will be three years since that fact was discovered via a google search revealing internet randoms chatting about his death.
His decidedly enthusiastic efforts to avoid supporting us was one of the reasons that led to that. His need to see himself as the reasonable, innocent party, focus the all the blame for our reticence to have a relationship with him on my mother and perceive himself as misunderstood and hard done by were actually far more significant factors.
We also had some very enthusiastic parental alienation going on. Which is why I am also estranged from my mother and my sister has very, very low contact with her.
Neither of them were, or have been, willing to acknowledge their choices. They both preferred, or prefer, to blame the other entirely for the bonds between parents and children fraying to the point of breakage. No responsibility was/has been taken for their own behaviour by either parent. They preferred/prefer to finger point at the other parent. Or us.
They will both die estranged from their children after decades of low/no contact convinced it was somebody else's fault. The truth is both had every chance of rebuilding a relationship with us via a simple recognition that their own behaviour in using us as pawns in their fight caused us long term harm, pain and ... grief.
I forgive them both. I think they both behaved impulsively and got lost in a game of tit for tat and an ongoing battle not to let the other "win". It appears to have been habit forming. Maybe recognising their own awful behaviour was too hard and painful and they took refuge in continuing to blame each other. But without that self awareness on their parts of their own failings at the time and beyond, it was/is impossible to reconcile. Because there comes a point where your only hope to live your life as well as you can means cutting their alternative reality out of the mix for the sake of your mental health.
When around them my suicide ideation becomes incredibly hard to control and keep within doable limits. It started in a florid fashion when their acrimonious separation began and has plagued me for the 35 years since. I have not had a single day since he left us, with all their joint savings in his suitcase, where I haven't had to bat back thoughts that I should die and then nothing will hurt anymore.
Away from them I can treat it like annoying, twinges from an ingrown toenail. With them in my life it becomes so much stronger and constant that it exhausts me to fight it and I worry I'll run out of the energy and desire to keep battling it.