I didnt go back to visit unless I had to. When I married I moved out of state, married to a soldier and moved on with my life. My husband and I had two daughters, the first overseas, and the second stateside. My father came to visit his granddaughters and was staying a week when they were around five and two. I bit my tongue and played hostess as sweetly as possible, putting up with his old behaviors, right up until he started yelling at one of my daughters for some childlike behavioral offense. I stepped up, stepped in between them and reminded him that we were in my house now and we would be going by my rules and that he was out of line. He stomped out and sulked in his car for an hour or so, listening to music. He cut his visit short by a day or two and I was relieved. I couldn’t change his behaviors, but I would be damned if he was going to traumatize my child. He never remembered, or chose not to remember, how he treated us. He wondered aloud why he got so few hugs from me. He lived to be in his nineties and had dementia towards the end.