Homeless Boy Asked The Biker To Take Him To See The Ocean Before He Died From Cancer

Lucas was quiet for a long moment. Then he said something that destroyed me.

“Can you be my dad?”

I couldn’t breathe. “What?”

“I know you’re just some biker guy. I know you probably don’t want a sick kid. I know I’m probably going to die soon anyway. But for the time I have left… could you be my dad? Just pretend? So I know what it feels like?”

Margaret was openly sobbing now. She turned away to give us privacy.

I held Lucas tighter. “I’m not going to pretend anything, Lucas. But I’m going to be here for you. For whatever time you have left. If you want me, I’m yours.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ll come visit you every week. I’ll call you every day. And if the system lets me, I’ll try to become your real foster dad.”

Lucas turned around and hugged me. His tiny arms around my neck. His bald head against my chest. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for seeing me. Everyone else just sees a sick kid. You saw me.”

We stayed on that beach until the stars came out. Lucas fell asleep in my arms, exhausted from the best day of his short life.

The next two days were perfect. We went back to the beach both mornings. Lucas built more sandcastles. Collected more shells. Learned to let the waves chase his feet. Laughed more than I think he’d ever laughed.

On the last day, he asked me to take a picture of us together. Him and me on the beach. He wanted proof, he said. Proof that someone had cared enough to give him this.

That picture is framed on my wall now.Continue reading…