Francis Holcomb, known as Fran, carefully walked into his sick mother’s bedroom carrying a bowl of steaming soup broth. She had been extremely ill for several months, and was now terminal. Twelve-year-old Fran had taken care of her mostly single-handedly to the best of his ability, but the outlook was very bleak.

“Fran, honey, I don’t think I can get it down,” she said, weakly.

“Pleeeease, mom? I don’t want you to die,” said Fran.