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After retiring from the USAF, I worked for a few years and then returned to college. I wasn't an ordinary student. Most students belonged to organizations such as Sigma Delta Pi, I belonged to the PTA.
The year had been a tough one. My sister had lost her home in the May 3rd, 1999 tornado that devastated Oklahoma City, my father was diagnosed as having liver cancer and I was carrying a full college load while working. December rolled around and when finals week reared its ugly head, I was notified that my Father only had days.
I had already finished some of my finals, but in two classes I had to take "i's" (incomplete) to go to my father who was 200 miles away. I loaded the family up and left.
Our Christmas tree was up, but we took the few gifts we had and put them in the car. Christmas was less then a week away, but Dad's funeral was the day before Christmas Eve. I was devastated, but tried to be strong for my siblings, my mother and my children. Even my wife was extremely upset at my Father's passing. He had been a good man to all of us.
I spent the days bringing things together and making arrangements for the funeral. Many of the items had been done by my Uncles, but I did many others myself. I found a Military Color Guard and managed to get them to come and honor my Father who had served for 21 years in the USAF. My wife and I bought a family wreath and we helped to pick out a head stone. I wrote a eulogy and gave it before the funeral to my father's church.
Preparing for a funeral is not what most do during this time year. Yet, Christmas shopping seemed to be minor for us. We did sneak away for a short time and purchased our children a Nintendo game system. We all knew Christmas would be sparse that year.
After the funeral, we stayed with my mother and helped her around the house taking care of things that Dad had not managed to finish. We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her so that she would not be alone. My younger sister and her Family, my brother and my older Sister and her family all stayed through Christmas. Then we went home late Christmas Day.
Driving home in the dark I was very somber. My Children had not had a very good Christmas. We had spent much of our Christmas money on the trip and the funeral. They had lost their only living grandfather and I had lost my father. It was a four hour trip of deep sorrow and regret.
Finally, we arrived home and as I parked the car, I noticed the front door was wide open. I asked my wife if she had any idea why it would be open and she didn't. I got out and slowly walked to the door. I looked in and all the lights were off. I opened the storm door and called for the dogs. They all came running.
The fact the dogs were alright and knowing that Austin would have attacked anyone he did not know within the house (which had done before) lead me to believe it was alright to enter. I walked in and keeping Austin by my side, I walked through the house. I checked the bedrooms first, then the kitchen and finally the living room.
When I hit the switch for the living room the Christmas tree lights came on and I was stunned.
Sitting under and around the tree was numerous gifts all wrapped up. I was amazed. We had taken all of the gifts we had with us.
I walked over to them and checked the tags. They were all address in typewritten tags that had my children's names on them. A few were to my wife and a few were to me.
Need less to say, I was stunned. I stood up and walked outside to my family and told them it was all clear. Then, I told them they all needed to go to the living room.
When we walked in, I noticed a white envelope that I had missed earlier. Opening it, it read:
Years ago, I heard that you had played Santa to a child in your town whose parents were going through a hard time. You bought them toys and left them Christmas Night on her family's porch.
You signed the letter Santa and never told anyone.
Having heard of the problems you had this Christmas, I needed to do this. Sorry, I broke in.
Love,
Santa
I remembered having done what the letter accused me of. It was several years earlier before I was married. Yet, I had not told anyone except for a friend who had died the following year.
To this day I have no idea who broke in and left all the gifts. I have no idea who knew about my gift giving that Christmas Night so long ago or why they felt I should be repaid. The gifts helped my children to have a better Christmas and is a gift of love that I will never forget.
Perhaps there is a Santa Clause. Perhaps he lives in each of us.
