Be like a river, let yourself go downstream. Gravity will do the work. Somewhere down there an ocean is waiting for you to help keep it full. Just do it. There is no need to bother explaining yourself.
I was twenty-three when you died at fifty-eight, Father, and you hadn’t spoken to me at all for two years, and only barely spoke to me for several years before that. You were stubborn, mean, and alcoholic, and your life was riddled with cancer and anger. And I hated you for all of this. Forty years have passed. How might it be if you and I could both be sixty-three, and sit together for a coffee or two? Might it be calm between us? Might it be delightful at last?
Find your place on the planet. Dig in, and take responsibility from there.
The advice I would give to someone is to not take anyone's advice.