Hi Steve,
I haven't read the other replies yet, so pardon me if I am repeating what has already been said. But I feel pretty strongly about this issue, and I wanted to post in the limited time that I have right now.
Everything you feel is right. Yes, he did screw you up, and yes, it is your responsiiblity because you are your responsibility. Yes, he probably wanted to be a good father, and yes, he didn't know how. Yes, he loves you, and yes, he hurt (and continues to hurt) you.
It's a testament to your strength and your growth that you confronted him. It's also a testament to him that he finished the conversation. Think about it: He sat there and listened to you say that he did everything wrong. He had the grace to cry because he hurt you. That may not result in long-term change, but it's something. I think you will find many people here who never got that much from their parents. I certainly know I didn't.
Am I saying you should forgive him everything? Absolutely not. But it's not an either/or situation. This is not something you can "clear up" and get beyond. It will haunt you and affect you for the rest of your life. I hope that it will push you in your own life to say what might be left unsaid, to give what might be withheld, to be generous with your love and regard. Not necessarily to him, but to those whom you have chosen to bring into your life. If you can find it in yourself to show him what he couldn't and didn't show you, then so much the better for you. But it is not necessary, and sometimes it is just asking too much.
The final answer, I think, lies not in explaining how you got the way you are, and whose fault it is, but in making yourself the person you want to be. That is why I drive 600 miles a week to visit my mother, who is sick and impaired and doesn't always know who I am. It's not really for her benefit, though I think it helps her. It's because when it is all over--and it will be over sooner than I care to admit--I want to be able to look in the mirror and call myself what I am without recoiling. I want my generosity of spirit to triumph over her cramped, damaged personality. I want to be my own person, not the person she made me. And the person I want to be recognizes that, in addition to all the nice things St. Paul said about love, there's one he left out: Love is imperfect. Only your father can know whether he loved you to the full extent of his ability. Certainly he didn't give you everything you needed. But maybe it's enough to know that he tried. It may be all you're going to get from him, anyway.
I think you've taken your confrontation with your father about as far as you can. It may be time to confront yourself. Knowing what you know, how can you overcome the deficiencies you see? How can you give yourself what you were not given? That's the real work, Steve, as I think you know.
I wish you peace.
Best,
daylily