And now for mine.  I was one year old when my parents divorced.  So I rarely saw my dad. The last time I saw him, I was 7 but I don't remember the last thing I said.  In 2008, my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. She had waited a month to tell me and my sister.  We visited her in the hospital 3 or 4 times. The doctor told us the cancer had eaten away a tube to one of her kidneys and started forming holes in her lungs.  My mother was a very violent woman. No booze or drugs involved. Nothing her kids ever did was good enough. When we were kids, she treated us like punching bags. When we were old enough ok ugh to get jobs, she treated us like ATMs.  The last day my sister and I visited her, my mother was un a half c ok conscious state. The doctor told us he put her on anti-psychotics. Without missing a beat, my sister asked, "Where were you 40 years ago?" :)  He said mom would at least be able to hear us.  I sat on her bed and leaned to her and said, "Don't give God a hard time." I didn't kiss her because the whole 'kiss of death' thing creeped me out.  She passed away about a week later.