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”

door. His expression shifted—just for a fraction of a second—into something protective. “She’s tired, Mom.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

But I did notice. My friendship with Diane had been fraying at the edges for weeks. The long, rambling phone calls had been replaced by curt texts; the deep, meaningful conversations had dissolved into awkward silences. continue reading …