My 17-Year-Old Son Shaved His Head for His Sick Girlfriend—The Next Day, Her Mother Called Me and Said, “You Need to Come to the Hospital”

teenager rummaging through the pantry for the third time in ten minutes.

“Mom, did you hide the granola bars again?”

Aaron’s voice drifted from behind the wall of cereal boxes. My son was seventeen—tall, gangly, and possessed of a gentle nature that had always been his defining trait. He was the kind of boy who noticed when a classmate sat alone at lunch continue reading …