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It kept his mind off his own losses.
Once Amelia was inside, they burst through the door to the amazement of the children. There were kids who were sick with minor things and there were the ones who were in beds or wheelchairs who he said a prayer over each time he saw them. His heart ached for the gravely ill children and their families. As he handed out the toys, he thought of his own little girl.
God, his heart ached just thinking about her.
“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas,” he said, handing out the toys to the children who were the least sick.
But when he started on the row of children who were very ill, he would stop and talk to each child. “Merry Christmas. I’m praying that you receive healing and have a good Christmas.”
Their mothers would smile and thank him, often with tears in their eyes. And while his heart hurt for each child, he felt good that he was doing something special for these kids.
One mother he reached out and hugged. She looked like she needed someone to give her some support.
“Thank you,” she whispered near his ear. “You’re a blessing.”
When he got to the last child, the little girl smiled at him. “Santa, thank you. But you should give this toy to one of the other kids. I’m not going to be here much longer.”
Tears sprang to his eyes and her mother looked away and quickly wiped her eyes.
“No, sweetie. I want you to have this present. This one is for you. And it doesn’t matter how long you play with it. It’s here as long as you need it.”
A grin spread across her face. “Merry Christmas.”
God, his heart overflowed with warmth and his eyes filled with tears. “Merry Christmas. Giving you this present has made my Christmas even happier.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He had to walk away or start crying there in front of her. As it was, her mother was struggling to keep it together.
When he reached the door, he turned back and gazed at the children all playing with the toys they’d been given and he felt so blessed. To share this time with them was special and it did make him feel good.
“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas,” he said and walked out the door. He went to the nurses’ station and grabbed a tissue.
“Gets to you every time, doesn’t it, Santa,” one of the nurses said.
“Yes,” he said. “That little girl, the very last one, what’s wrong with her?”
“You know I can’t tell you,” the nurse said. “But it starts with a C, and no, she’s not doing well. We’ll be lucky if she’s still here on New Year’s Day.”
Stan rolled Amelia down the hall. The man was somber.
For the last two years, they had left the hospital after handing out gifts and gone to the bar where Stan and Adam had gotten drunk. It had seemed appropriate, but not tonight.
“Thanks, Stan,” Ryan said. “I had to get out of there.”
“I know,” he said.
Adam looked like a dejected puppy. “I’m certain you’re not going to join us for drinks tonight. But I’m headed to the bar. I’ll call an Uber to get me home.”
Normally, he’d driven them home, because as a paramedic, he’d seen too much of what drunk driving had done to people. He’d have one drink to their five, so he was the designated driver.
“I’m going to join you,” Stan said. “We can share the Uber.”
“Time for me to get Amelia home and either in bed or with her feet propped up,” he said.
“And food. I need food,” she said. “This baby likes to eat.”
A grin spread across his face. “I doubt there are many places open, but I make a mean pizza. Do you like pizza?”
