sad to think about

I don't claim to have a terrible upbringing, I do will say it is sad to that I have only a few memories of my father from when I was younger.
Ever since I can remember, furthest back being 3 years old, was on any given night when I would walk into the kitchen looking for either my mother or father I would find them fighting. My parents were very loving and kind hearted people mind you. But I would walk in and being patient and waiting my turn to speak, it wouldn't come, I would wait and wait. They would just yell at each other, mostly my father would be yelling and my mother would be sitting and allowing him to yell, but then he would her off and start yelling as well.
I was 6 or so when my father left the house. One day my father asked that myself and my brother to get in the car for a ride. He drove us across town not saying much, down to an ocean beach for a conversation. I don't remember the exact wording of this talk but the image of sitting in the back of his old car is burned in my memory forever. He started by saying how much he loved us both and all of that average "nothing you did wrong" "it's between me and your mother" (never once would he say "his wife"). He said all of these things about how thing weren't working between them and that he loved us dearly. He moved out shortly after that.
I was 16 or so, my father was living in Albany, New York, and he came down to see me. He told me a week before hand that he was coming down, not that at that point in my life could I make better than day ahead plans. I totally forgot about it and he called me where I was working to tell me he was there and wanted to know when to pick me up. I had made other plans and wanted to hang out with my friend before I saw him, that wasn't the best thing for him to hear, and he got very angry. He showed up immediately and walked around the store for a while, in the mean time my friend showed up to pick me up. I clocked out and jumped into the flat bed cause it was faster, and told him to just drive. Not knowing what was going on he took off, I chanced a glance over the rim as we pulled out to see a very angry man looking back at me. My friend drove down the street to the supermarket. My father followed us, as soon as my friend stopped, my father jumped out of his car beside us and proceeded to start yelling at both of us, and started running for the side of the truck. I jumped out the other side and started running, he got back into his car and followed me in it. I ran around behind the super market where my loving, caring father, came withing inches of running me over, I screaming and yelling at him to leave me alone kept running and headed where I could get through a walk way that he couldn't follow in. he jumped out of the car and ran after me on foot, I didn't notice he got out. I got through the walk way and turned around panting and hyperventilating, immediately he wrapped his arms around me. He threw me to the ground (actually my legs failed from not breathing properly, and he was pulled down with me when I started to fall) and eventually the police showed up.
These are just the precious few memories of my childhood with my father.