I’ve hated my dad for eight years because he left my family. 
But now that I’ve thought about it, I admire him a little too. He just got up one day and decided what was important to him, and left. He never looked back, I doubt he even thought about it. I don’t think I have anywhere near enough courage to ever leave my family and everything I own, no matter how much it hurts me.
It doesn’t excuse what he did, of course. But it makes me want to get to know him so much more than I ever have. I guess in a way I envy him.