My dad used to follow us and sit in his car and watch us at work and stuff. My brother moved out as soon as he could. I moved out for awhile but came back in my late 20s to help take care of my mom until she died. Soon after she died I moved in with my grandmother for a bit after my dad told me I was destroying the family. He used to run dirty dishes briefly under running water and put them into the cupboard wet and dirty and I took them out one night, washed them all, put them on the dish rack to dry and went to bed. He woke me up at 5 to berate me for two hours about destroying the family and how he couldn't have "this behavior" before revealing that he was talking about the dishes being on the drying rack. I think he was trying to make me guess why he was mad and potentially reveal something I was feeling guilty about that he didn't know about.

Anyway, I left that day and lived with my grandmother for a few months and later found out that he'd come by her house when neither of us were home and use the spare key to come inside and go through all my things. He'd take things, copy stuff I had on the computer, shit like that.

I left the state and cut him off completely and he wrote sad emails to everyone about how he didn't understand why I rejected him when all he did was ask me to put the dishes away.

And then he died a few years later and it was a great improvement to my mental health.

He'd also tell me things like I had no right to be sad over my mom dying because it's much worse to lose your wife than your mother - his mom was still alive. The night the doctors said my mom wouldn't recover, we went back to the house and out of nowhere he just said, "I just want you to know I don't care about anything you say. I only talk to you to be polite," and went to bed. Real gem.