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Camron James Lucas

Page 2


Above is a picture of my father and a friend of ours Brian Craft. My father past away on December 1, 2003. We just received news yesterday that Brian had past away. Kelly I'm sorry for your loss. If you ever need anything you know what to do. My thoughts are with you.

This is just a self serving little thing that I just decided to write for my baby boy. I think it's all just a part of me still searching for answers. I'm sorry for anyone offended by the following post. It's just how I feel.

Why?

Why in the world did this have to happen to me?
Why couldn't it have been me instead of you buddy?
Why did I have to bury my best friend?
Why should I be afraid to be in my own room?
Why do I need to feel this way?
Why did you have to leave?
I shouldn't have had to bury my two year old son.
I shouldn't have to feel this way.
I shouldn't be worrying about this.
I don't want to hear all the crap,
"Things happen for a reason."
"He's in a better place right now."
"He's happier now."
BULLSHIT!!!!!!
There is no way my two year old son is happier lying in the ground than he was spending with myself or his mother.
My son is not in a "better" place right now.
It doesn't make me feel any better thinking that my son is "happier" because he doesn't have to suffer through life.
How could he be "happier"?
How could he be"happier" not seeing any more birthdays?
How could he be "happier" not finding his first love?
How could he be "happier" not being a father himself?
How in the world could he be "happier" never knowing his cousin?
My son will never experience any of these things, along with numerous other things.
So don't try to make me feel better by feeding me all that bullshit.
It's not true.




This page is in remembrance of my son Camron James Lucas. Camron passed away on Friday, June 10, 2005. He just turned two this past May. He fell into a pool and never revived from the accident. I just felt that this would be a fitting tribute.  I love you buddy. I'll never forget you. I miss you.

Love,
Daddy
R.I.P.





















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