I need catharsis

My parents marriage started to fall apart around June 6, 1949. Coincidentally it was the day I was born. My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer around the same time she discovered she was pregnant. Thankfully, she did not terminate her pregnancy. After my delivery, Mom decided, along with her doctor - P.A. MacDonald, and without consultation with my dad (which was against the rules way back then), to have a hysterectomy. I don't know the procedures Dad went through but he got Mom excommunicated from the church, the 1940-50s Catholic Church. Up to then, Mom was a devout Catholic. And he stopped loving her then, too. It took a while but Mom found someone to love her and she left Dad in October 1959.
I remember that I went to the Casino theatre that Saturday. On the way home I bought three big, red, candy apples from the French Pastry Shop. There was one for Dad, Mom, and my brother. Since she was often out at work, I thought nothing of her apple being left in the fridge for a week.
One evening Dad took me to Dartmouth where Mom was living. There was a confrontation and I was later sent to live with her and Richard. Richard was a drunk. I didn't like him. I think that at that time I didn't like anyone in my family.
Early in my memory are images of my brother always tormenting, teasing, and beating me. He bullied me unmercifully and I believe he enjoyed it. There was no advantage living with Mom. She owed a lot of money and we were always on the move. There was no home ownership with either parent. They always rented and we always moved. There was no opportunity for me to play or learn to play music ( no place to practice without disturbing other tenants) or participate in sports until I was much older. I love hockey but never learned to skate nor was I taught to skate. I could play baseball and was good at it. But no one would encourage me. Potential and ability was there but never realized.
I was jealous of my friends who had both parents.
I was sent to my dad's when I was thirteen. I believe he wanted me to be someone else. He controlled me unmercifully, never giving me any lee way. I think he became that way since he let my brother do what he wanted. I honestly believe that Dad was trying to lord over me like he couldn't with my brother. I had to be in before the street lights came on even if I were with a church group. I don't begrudge Dad his parenting but in hindsight there were lots of times when his dominance was overly protective. I always told him where I was going and with whom until university. Although living in Dad's house, I was on my own.
Dad never was much for expressions of support, for me anyway. He never really encouraged me beyond saying, or asking, if I passed. He didn't want his sons to walk in his footsteps to the waterfront. He did not want his sons to be bulldog labourers like him. So, I guess, being a university graduate did spark some pride in him. Regardless of my accomplishments, I don't think Dad was happy for me. I felt that I was a constant reminder of his short-comings and failure as a husband. A marriage to him was family and intercourse and when Mom had her hysterectomy marriage for Dad ended.
My father doted on my sister and his first son. He gave them whatever they wanted, especially my sister - the princess. I dislike both my sister and my brother - my sister because she is twelve years my senior and was never in my life to my memory. Both of them think they are my betters and I think they need to believe they are better than I.
My brother was more spoiled than I and I was was spoiled to an extent. He took advantage of the old man in regards to getting a start. He left home when he got married. Dad locked me out when I left to begin teaching. The first year I would come home on the weekends and would stay with Dad. The second summer vacation Dad asked for the house key. (My brother always had a key to Dad's place. Always). I think that is when I began to lose my affection for him. I like him because he is my dad but I didn't love him.
He chose to spend very holiday with my brother's family instead of sharing some with me and my family. My daughter missed her grandfather's appearance at her birthdays, Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and many meals. I would invite Dad to come for a Sunday dinner, or a holiday meal and his excuse was that he had to ask my brother. HAD TO ASK. I cannot forgive him or my brother for that (Dad died in 2009 at age 100- I think it significant that the grandchild who was not present at his funeral was the one he never visited).