.
Santa Claus Has Passed Away
As is their custom every year,
the Men’s Club promptly after class
had half the hallway commandeered
and cheerfully began to pass
out toys and games as grade by grade
the children headed out of school.
In former years what always made
it fun (both lame and kind of cool)
was some guy dressed as Santa Claus,
who this year wasn’t to be seen.
His awkward absence gave me pause
(the littler kids might make a scene…).
I looked for Tom, the guy who led
the thing. “Is everything okay?
Where’s Santa?” He just turned and said,
“Our Santa Claus has passed away.”
I stood there stunned. “I loved the guy,”
he said, “and this year couldn’t bear
the thought of someone else, but next
year maybe, I don’t know,” and stared
off somewhere, then looked down, then checked
his phone. And now in all the glee
of Christmas, shepherds, men so wise,
the wisest thing God’s let me see
were tears of love in poor Tom’s eyes.
.
.
Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Agape Review, America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.
This has me on the verge of tears as well.
Such a sad and melancholy story. You may have a deeper meaning involved, but it seems like the simple loss of someone who relished his annual task and was loved by one and all.
You got it, Eugene: a sad story about someone who died–and about someone who loved him. The broader context (for me) is the community in which this took place. I don’t really know Tom, but we both belong to the same parish (Good Shepherd, in the Inwood section of Manhattan). He does his thing, I do mine, we always say hello to each other, but our main interaction is at the toy distribution at Christmas, and that’s very brief. So I was deeply moved that he felt comfortable enough to let me into his grief, particularly since I’m still living in a grief of my own: two women I brought communion to died within a month of each other back in November. But, what both Tom and I know is that this is part of community. Every week at Mass we’re asked to pray for this sick parishioner, that one, for the ones who have died. And then, of course, just about every weekend we have a number of infant baptisms. Life goes on. We grieve together, we rejoice together. We give out toys. We love each other. And it all comes about just because we pray together. So now I’m praying for the repose of Tom’s friend’s soul. I don’t even know Santa Claus’s real name. Merry Christmas!
A rare story, Jeffrey, of the deep emotional impact of Christian friendship between men who do God’s work together. That is, I’m sure the love isn’t rare, but the telling and hearing about it is unusual. Tom and you are wise to let it be known. Merry Christmas to you both, and may Santa Claus rest in peace!
Merry Christmas, Margaret, and God bless!!! Jeffrey
What a beautiful and important story Jeffrey. It’s a reminder that the people we pass all have deeply personal stories we sometimes only catch glimpses of. Have a blessed Christmas.
A very touching story, Mr. Essmann. May God grant eternal peace to all who, like the subject of your piece, brought smiles to others. I hope you had a fulfilling Christmas. God bless!