My dad would beat the shit outta me with a belt for any small perceived wrong. Or he'd slap me in the face for accidentally dropping something. Stuff like that. I moved to my mom's when I was 10 or so almost entirely to escape all that stuff.
Later, when I was 22 or so, he swore to me that he never did any of that. I don't know if he was just lying to himself so he didn't have to face what he did, or if he legitimately forgot because by that point he was in his 70s (he died about five years later) and just started to forget things because of age. Either way though, I...guess I've forgiven him? I mean...never to his face or anything, but...eh, I dunno. I try not to think about it too hard. Can't change the past, and he's gone anyway. Thinking about it doesn't do any good.