I sat her in his lap facing me and slowly backed away making faces at her. I had found the most adorable little baby Mrs. Claus outfit for her first Christmas so they were matchy-matchy. She was bald and chubbier than chubby with no teeth. Her sparkling blue eyes danced as she found her hands on his fur cuffs and began to pet them. She smiled a huge toothless grin for the camera and I heard “awwwww”. I looked up to see a crowd that had gathered on the second level to watch her get her first picture with Santa taken.
Every year we would head to the mall to see him. His whiskers were real and his soul was genuine. You could feel it. There were years the lines were so long that I would sit on the floor for an hour and a half, sometimes two hours, waiting while her dad walked her around getting snacks and bathroom breaks taken care of.
Each year he would ask me if we could try some place less crowded and I would tell him he was crazy, this man was Santa. Eventually he became known in our house as “our Santa”.
We arrived at the mall excited to see our Santa for our ninth year in a row. As we came upon the giant green chair we realized, much to our dismay, that our Santa was not there. A much less Santa-like Santa was sitting in his place. Brea’s face fell and she asked if we could leave. I convinced her to stay since we were already there.
A lot had changed with how it was run and I was less than thrilled. I contacted the mall immediately when we got home because if they had let our Santa go you bet your booty I was going to make a stink about it!
A representative from the mall responded immediately to my message to inform me that our Santa had taken ill and asked that we pray for him and his family.
My heart sank. I sat staring at my computer screen and cried.
Sometimes I simply can’t take how much sickness and sadness there is in the world and that it always seems to be the kindest gentlest souls that are forced to deal with it.
I told my family and we prayed. Throughout the year we would discuss our concern and send our energy out into the universe with hopes that he was ok. More than ok.
The following year we headed to see if our Santa had returned. Our hearts were saddened to see that once again he wasn’t there. Brea had told us that she really didn’t want to go and I talked her into it, hoping and praying he was there because more than anything I just wanted him to be ok.
This year she surprised us when she requested to go see Santa early. I was thrilled. Then we talked about how we hoped that our Santa would be there, but the chances were unlikely.
I made our reservations online, yes apparently it’s quite the process to see Santa now, and we arrived early. Brea and I headed in while her dad went to park the car. As we rounded the corner my heart leapt from my chest. I grabbed Brea’s hand and said, “oh my god Brea! I think that’s him! I think that’s our Santa!”
He looked a little different…a bit thinner and his hair and whiskers weren’t as long and full, but something about that twinkle in his eye. I didn’t want to ask in case it wasn’t him. I sat down with him after Brea did and took a selfie. We were cracking up laughing as I made my very ornery Christmas wish. As I stood up to walk away he said, “you behave now” and my head whipped around! I’d recognize that sweet southern accent anywhere.
Years ago when I asked him where he was from and he tried to tell me the North Pole I called him out and told him that this southern girl knew he was from somewhere far from anything north! He whispered to me that he was from Georgia. I told him I was born in Savannah.
I came home Friday night and sent a message to the mall asking if they could confirm that this was our Santa that had returned. They responded that it was and without a second thought I knew what I needed to do. Through a puddle of happy tears I told my family my plan.
Today all plans were cancelled. Brea and I baked homemade chocolate chip cookies from scratch, made a card with a very heartfelt message and grabbed the album on our way out the door.
We arrived in line and my heart began to race as it does when I’m about to follow it’s calling.
As the sweet little elf came to get us I told her why we were there.
Her eyes filled with tears and she covered her mouth. When she gathered herself she took a deep breath and said, “he so needs to hear this!” Then she walked us over and said, “Santa, these two have something special for you.”
He looked up and there was that magical sparkle in his eyes. We took a seat on either side of him and Brea handed him the tin of cookies. His face lit up. He laughed as I assured him that our hands and kitchen are clean.
Then I told him that we had a more important reason for being there and that I would try not to cry.
As soon as I began the tears welled up, “We came to see you Friday and were beyond excited to see that you were back. I was the one who told you I wanted a new husband for Christmas!”
He burst out laughing and said, “Oh that was you! I told you to behave!”
“Yes,” I said “and that was when I knew it was you! I’d recognize that accent anywhere. So I went home and messaged the mall to confirm that it was you. When they said how happy they were to have you back we decided that we needed to come see you again to let you know what you mean to our family. Brea has known for a while now that you’re not ‘the’ Santa, but to our family you ARE Santa.”
I shared with him that I had been prepared to go up to bat for him when he wasn’t there a couple of years ago and how much we prayed for him and thought about him when we found out he had taken ill.
He shared some of his story with me.
I reached up and gently touched his beard. I told him how wonderful he looked and beautiful his whiskers were. We were both crying and kept hugging each other. He asked me to move in closer and we just sat tearfully talking and hugging. He told me how much all of it meant to him and I apologized through quiet giggles for making him cry. I told him that was a first for me…making Santa cry.
Then I told him I had something to show him…
I pulled out the album and we flipped through all 9 years of him, our Santa, and Brea. He laughed and cried. So did I. Brea didn’t cry, but she definitely laughed with us.
I told him I would let him get back to his job, but that I just needed him to know what a difference he makes in this world and that he IS Santa. He is the very meaning of Christmas.
He asked us to take another picture with him and then he stood up and hugged me so very tight. He gave me his email address and we plan on keeping in touch. I need to know that he is ok and I’m not waiting year to year to do so!
I went over to the woman who had led us in and it was only then that I realized they had closed down the area to give us space and time with Santa. With a huge smile she said, “you have no idea how much he needed this. He so needed to hear this and I’m so glad you guys did this for him.”
He came over to see our picture and ask for one more hug as he continued to dry his eyes.
If I’ve learned anything over the past few years it’s to say what you need to say.
The only thing that was of any comfort to me when my brother passed away so unexpectedly was knowing that the last thing I had told him was how much I loved him.
Less than 3 years later I had the same experience with my mom when she passed unexpectedly. My last words to her were that I loved her.
I find myself trying to make sure I take the time to let people know what they mean to me.
Santa needed to know that he makes a difference and that many miles away from his home a family thought of him often and prayed for him to be ok.
I said what I needed to say and I have a feeling Santa and I will be in touch very soon.