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Cripes, every CHristmas my dad gets drinks into him and bawls the night away thinking about his son. It really tore him up that bad. I don't talk to him much, in fact, I saw him twice in the past 18 years. He makes it a point to call me every Christmas to say how much he loves me, he's all choked up badly, I can tell. Then talks a bit about Jamie.
Poor guy.
Jamie had a motorcycle in my Dad's garage for the longest time. He finally sold it 10 years after his death. I wish he would have given it to me like I asked though.
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