My dad was mentally and physically abusive, and when parents got divorced he kicked us put of the house and told us he never wanted us, and that we ruined his life. I was left destitute and penniless trying to finish university. Many a time i had to sleep on a park bench just to escape his violence when i went home from Uni in the holidays.
Years later the "family" got in touch to tell us he had leukamia, and wanted to see us. My brother and I could only come to the concusion that he was scoping for a bone marrow transplant from one of us.
Then we were told he was dying. He wanted to see us. We discussed and decided well, fuck him. I could have been a washed up crack whore as far as he was concerned prior to the illness. He told the entire family i was a waste of space who just wanted to drink and sleep around. He beat the living daylights out of my 20 year old dear, sweet, gentle brother during a discussion on politics.
I didn't party, but did some quiet reflection. I came to terms with the fact that my father's upbringing must have facilitated the personality traits he had. I visited his grave some 6 months after and made peace at my own pace. I grieved not for him, but for the lack of a proper, loving and supportive father that was missing in my life. Sometimes when i look at photos of myself and my brother, i do get emotional as i look at two tiny little stick limbed blonde innocent children and just wonder how the hell he could have been so violent to us. We were quiet, helped around the house, excelled at school and never caused trouble. We did everything we could to appease him and it was never enough. What is has given me is a direction i want to take my own family in, and how precious my ds' childhood is. I am reliving a childhood through sharing his IYSWIM?
I have no regrets about not seeing him. He didn't deserve us as children. If you don't feel anything then quietly move on op. I wish you well.