Just two short hours ago, he was preparing to die, without getting a chance to say goodbye to his son. Now, he was spending his last few minutes with his son.

Just two short hours ago, he had been slowly eating his last meal. Now, the tray of food sat to the side, forgotten.

"I was hoping you would come, but I didn't know where to find you," he said.

"I read the article in the paper," his son replied.

"You didn't have to come."

"I wanted to."

"I'm sorry for leaving you on the streets, son."

"You did what you had to, Dad."

He picked up a piece of newsprint. "You aren't the only one who reads the paper," he said, handing the paper to his son.

The younger man glanced down at the paper in his hand. It was a picture of a familiar group of boys.

"I'm proud of you, Frank."

"The name's Kelly. Jack Kelly."