Some of that is a case of people choosing to remember the bad. I could dwell on bad shit too but then I'd be a miserable person. Being a parent is hard. It's not something that can be learned from a manual.
My dad's 65 or so and he's one of the weirder people I know. He's a little bit like Kevin's dad from The Wonder Years in how opinionated and strict he can be a lot of the time. While he was a good provider in that we never went hungry or without shelter or clothes but he was basically a God fearing version of Al Bundy, largely emotionally disconnected from his wife and kids and working the same shit job putting in a ton of effort not making all that much money simply because it was all he knew how to do. He wasn't that well educated but he's extremely smart and does have a nerdy side that I have to credit for getting me into computers so early. I loved reading Popular Science growing up which he always subscribed to and he bought us a 486 computer in the early 90's when almost no other family at my school had one.
He's also incredibly handy when he wants to be having worked in farming and construction most of his life. About all he likes to do is go fishing and he goes quite often. My mom is in some ways his exact opposite and I'm convinced 99.9% of couples like him would have gotten divorced long ago, but they share a unique cultural story that I think has kept them together. Last Christmas we had something like 30 people there between my folks, siblings, an uncle or two and the grandkids and he spent most of the evening reading a book or surfing the web, like he does during the last half of most family gatherings and I definitely get my introversion from his side.
My dad is 200% about him at all times, every time. When my sister was born my parents really had nothing living in a tiny garage apartment. The day she was born he went out and bought a new corvair spider when they nothing. The day I was born 8 years later he quit his job and went to work for himself. In high school I was sitting in my room and the house got struck by lightning. It went through the roof and out the overhang to hit the meter. He was already asleep. I got up and pulled the attic stairs down and could see it was on fire. I called 911 and I opened his door and told him "house is on fire". He rolled over and said "take care of it". That was it. He had been in bed about 10 minutes before house got struck. Everything was always him him him.
She found out her dad died by reading it in the newspaper. I was about 15, and for some reason at like 5am, she came into my room (didn't wake my dad up, woke me up), and told me her dad died and I said "is he still gonna be dead in 2 hours?"