I told my dad when I was 17. We were in the kitchen. After working up the necessary courage, I calmed myself and simply said, "Dad, I'm gay." (in German). He was silent for a moment and said, "this is worse than the death of your mother. Go to your room."
We just never really talked about it again and after a few weeks, things seemed to be back to normal. I wasn't going to bring it up again. I had moved away to study and when I had my first serious relationship, I told my father that I wanted him to meet someone. So he met the man of my dreams when he came to visit for dinner. It was a good evening. His only response was to later tell me on the phone that he had bought a bigger guest bed if we wanted to come visit him together. I cried.
Fast forward 18 years—I'm living with the man of my dreams and the relationship with my father couldn't be better. I guess this is an "it get's better" story.