For over three decades, Mohamed Bzeek, a Libyan-born Arab-American from Los Angeles, has dedicated his life to one of the most heartbreaking yet profound acts of compassion: fostering terminally ill children whom the system has abandoned. As one of the only foster parents in Los Angeles County willing to care exclusively for these fragile lives—many with severe disabilities, cancer, or rare conditions—he has opened his home to more than 80 children, holding 10 as they took their final breaths. “I’ve cared for 80 children,” he says softly. “Ten of them died in my arms.” Many arrive nameless; he gives them one. Expected to live weeks, some stay years. Bzeek knows every acceptance means inevitable loss, yet he says yes—ensuring no child dies alone in a sterile hospital bed, but in warmth, peace, and love. Now battling cancer himself, he continues caring for a little girl with severe brain deformities, a child the world forgot. “She has feelings. She has a soul,” he insists. “She’s a human being.” Often called the “Muslim Mother Teresa,” Bzeek seeks no titles—only to love each child until their last breath.

A Journey of Compassion

Born in Libya in 1954, Bzeek immigrated to the United States in 1978, settling in California. Trained as a pharmacist, he married Dawn, an American woman, and together they began fostering in the 1980s. After Dawn’s death from illness in 2014, Bzeek continued alone, focusing on the most challenging cases: children with terminal illnesses, often blind, deaf, paralyzed, or with shortened lifespans. Los Angeles County’s foster system, overwhelmed with over 30,000 children, has few willing to take these cases—many require 24/7 care, feeding tubes, and constant medical attention.

Bzeek’s home in Azusa became a sanctuary. He has cared for children with epidermolysis bullosa (skin that blisters at touch), microcephaly, and spinal muscular atrophy. One girl lived with him for 11 years, far exceeding her prognosis. He bathes them, sings to them in Arabic, and ensures their final days are filled with dignity. “I know they can’t hear, they can’t see, but I always talk to them,” he told the Los Angeles Times in 2017. “They are children—so innocent.”

A Viral Story of Selfless Love

Bzeek’s story gained global attention in 2017 through a LA Times profile by Marisa Gerber, going viral with millions of shares. Documentaries, including a 2019 short by Matteo Servente and a 2023 BBC piece, followed. His GoFundMe, started by supporters, raised over $700,000 for medical expenses and home modifications. Despite his own prostate cancer diagnosis in 2016 and ongoing treatment, Bzeek, now 70, refuses to stop. “God gave me this mission,” he says. “I will do it until I can’t.”

In 2025, he cares for a girl with anencephaly-like conditions, her life a miracle amid prognosis. His son, Adam, assists, continuing the family legacy of care.

Challenges and Resilience

Bzeek’s work is grueling—constant doctor visits, sleepless nights, and the emotional toll of loss. County regulations limit him to three children at once, but he often bends rules for emergencies. Funding is meager; foster payments barely cover costs. Yet, he persists, driven by faith and empathy. “These children are angels,” he says. “They teach me patience and love.”

His story echoes the Dahomey Amazons’ resilience or Samir and Muhammad’s bond—ordinary people performing extraordinary compassion.

Lessons for Today

Bzeek’s life imparts profound lessons:

• Unconditional Love: Like the black cat of Emperor Uda, he sees soul in the vulnerable.
• Human Dignity: Ensuring no child dies alone, akin to the third state’s cellular persistence, affirms life’s value.
• Community Action: His viral support, similar to the Frydenbø generator’s innovation, shows collective power.

A Legacy of Light

Mohamed Bzeek, fostering terminally ill children for over 30 years, holds them through their final moments, a beacon of compassion amid personal illness. Like the white auroras’ rarity or the Eltanin Antenna’s mystery, his story illuminates humanity’s capacity for love. In a world of haste, he reminds us: every life, no matter how brief, deserves to end in arms, not alone. 🕊️