When old foes get sick, your compassion can surprise you.

[no_hypocrisy]

11. My father dedicated much of his life to control me. If he couldn't control me,

then he was dedicated to destroying me.

Yet, there he was at age 91. My mother/his wife had died 11 years prior. My sister and brother were living far away from him. I was maybe 20 minutes away, happily in my own apartment with my own life.

And he was failing physically and mentally. And just as mean.

I considered letting him reap his karma, dying alone in his home.

But I then considered trying to assist him. Not because he was my father, but because he was my mother's widower. She wasn't there and somebody had to do it.

I moved into my old bedroom. I went to work and returned to his home. This went on for a number of months.

He died because he caused a rear-end collision, didn't tell me or my siblings. And he had a partially dissected aorta, which caused his heart attack.

I didn't cry at the hospital. I didn't cry at his memorial. I didn't cry returning to my childhood home.

All I know is that I did the right thing for the right reason.