Free Being Santa Claus : What I Learned About the True Meaning of Christmas (9781101600528) by Jonathan Sal; Lane Lizard, Jonathan Lane

visited the remaining children, I did manage to hold it together. But all I could think of in the back of my mind was how I
should
have answered Timothy’s question: “Yes, when you die, that’s what will happen because you want it to happen.” It would have helped him in his final minutes. But I simply couldn’t think of that answer in time.
    After Timothy, I made a vow to myself that I would never again leave a child waiting for an answer to a question for Santa. No matter what a child asked me, I would always answer it immediately. And I would never disappoint a child who was suffering. But this tragedy also helped me discover my limits. I decided that I could not visit hospitals ever again. I simply did not have the strength in my heart.
    That is, until a second chance came my way many years later, when I had my own healing Christmas miracle….

    IN 2010, NEARLY FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER MY experience with Timothy, I got a call from a good friend who was a fellow Santa Claus asking me a favor. By that time, my family and I had relocated to New England, and I’d become a seasoned Santa Claus with much more experience under my shiny black belt.
    Professional Santas always do whatever they can to help each other out, so when my friend asked me if I was doing anything during the daytime from December 6 to December 10 that year, I didn’t hesitate to say, “Not yet. What do you need?”
    “Well, I have an appearance scheduled at a cancer treatment center in Boston, but I just got this incredible offer to play Santa Claus in Japan, and it’s just too good of an opportunity to pass up. So I’m trying to find someone to fill in at the hospital for me, and I’d really like for it to be you.”
    My stomach tightened and my heart leapt into my throat. My thoughts raced back to Timothy. I seldom talked about that incident, but it had locked itself into my memory. In all the years since, I’d never approached a hospital to offer my services. My heart just couldn’tbear the sadness and pain of seeing children who might not make it until their next birthday, or even a couple of weeks until Christmas. And I had never quite forgiven myself for falling apart that day and not helping Timothy the way I believed I should have. I’d since learned that there were properly trained Santas who specialized in hospital and hospice visits. Those men have my absolute respect and admiration, and I knew it was best if I left such visits in their capable hands.
    Of course, my friend had no idea about what had happened to me previously. So I’m certain he was surprised when I responded, “Actually, I’d prefer that you asked someone else.”
    “I’ll be honest with you, Sal,” he began in a serious but sympathetic tone. I don’t know whether he suspected that I might be squeamish around hospitals or if he just wanted to sound encouraging. “I’d really hoped it would be you and not someone else, because you’re one of the best Santas I know, and you’re so believable. These are kids with cancer, and I wouldn’t feel right turning this over to someone I didn’t trust to make his appearance special for them.”
    I closed my eyes, and asked myself,
Can I do this?
Could I get through all those gut-wrenching visits, hospital room after hospital room, sick child after sick child, and still be the Santa Claus these children needed me to be? I honestly wasn’t certain.
    And then I remembered the vow I’d made to myselfthe day Timothy died to never disappoint a child who was suffering. Those kids were suffering, to one degree or another, and my fears and limitations seemed very small in comparison. This wasn’t about me; it was about delivering sunshine to kids who needed Santa’s loving reassurance. I took a deep breath and mustered my strength to sound as confident and committed as I could. “All right, I’ll do it.”
    “Thanks, Sal. This will really mean a lot to those kids,” he said, not realizing how much his statement applied