  This is a little dramatic and long, sorry.

 My mom died from compliations of breast cancer about 10 years ago. I was in a very blue collar career at that time, and was a non-custodial father to a toddler (his mom was/is a drug-addled train wreck). I had just signed up for my first semester of remedials, going for nursing. 

 She hid the cancer from my brothers and I until it was too late, and refused all treatment. She had massive lung mets, and ended up in the hospital with respiratory failure. She wouldn't shut up about her son who was going to be a nurse, and yacked the ears off all those poor people taking care of her. She gave me this huge Samsonite rolling book bag full of supplies, must have cost her a fortune.

 I will never forget her last lucid conversation with me. She told me she didn't have to worry about her grandson, because he had a wonderful father (this was code for "you better get custody of him"). She told me to be sure to finish school, to always be a good nurse, to help people and to make a difference. I promised her that I would. A week and half later, she was gone.

 The night she passed, I waited in her room with her body, after everyone else left. It didn't feel right to me to just leave her there with all the crap that nobody wanted. I helped the funeral director zip her up into a body bag, and we loaded her into his hearse together. He commented how nice it was that I didn't want to leave mom alone. That's when I knew I was cut out for nursing.

 I fought like hell to get through school, and it cost me everything. I was galvanized by the last promise I made to my mom, and I never quit fighting, even though I wanted to once or twice. I made it though, and have been a nurse for a few years. I (with my wife) have been the custodial parent to my son for almost six years, and currently have sole custody of him. 

 I have dealt with a lot of death at work, but you could say that the last words of my mom started it all.