My son was six, the day we had to hear
The doctor tell us, he wouldn’t make it to the next year
He didn’t understand, and we didn’t know what to say
All we could tell him, was it was going to be okay
Our son loved Christmas, and the entire Christmas season
So we got an idea, the only one we could reason
We knew that this, would be the last thing he’d remember
So what if we turned June, back into December
Give him one last time, give him one last Christmas
Just to let him know, what a joy he had given us
We’d tell him a lie, and we’d make him believe it
It would be a task, but we’d have to achieve it
We sat him down, and told him the news
His eyes got really big, as he seemed to be confused
We told him that Santa, thought June would be better
So he better get started, on writing his letter
Later I walked down our street, talking to every neighbor
Asking each one, if they could do us a favor
Just for a month, could they put up all their lights
And then turn them on, for a few hours every night
I even offered, to do the work myself
Even if the person, wouldn’t offer me their help
Yet later that night, I heard my son cry
And then he told me, he didn’t want to die
So I reassured him, as he laid there in my arms
That God would protect him, and keep him safe from harm
Then I asked him, what was the thing he wanted most
As he wiped away a tear, he said he didn’t know
I didn’t sleep that night, not even a wink
Living without my son, was the only thought I could think
The next day, I got on the phone to make a call
To learn who plays Santa, every year down at the mall
Since we couldn’t visit Santa, and our options were slim
I knew that all I could do, was bring Santa to him
That night we watched movies, while we did little crafts
It was the first time in a while, I’d seen my son laugh
One of the movies, talked about angels getting wings
As everyone in town, cheerfully singed
My son then asked me, would he get to be an angel
My wife left the room, the question was too painful
I told him yes, and with that I promised
He then smiled, because he knew I was honest
The next few days, we’re a bit tough
His poor little body, had almost had enough
As I arrived home, and got out of my car
I saw a man down the street, putting up a tree in his yard
I knew my son was weak, and wouldn’t want to go outside
So I told him it was snowing, not proud that I had lied
I saw him smile, as he went back to sleep
Then I turned off his light, in the darkness I would weep
The next night we decided, to put up our tree
The three of us, my son, my wife and me
We decorated it, with ornaments and tinsel
I lifted up my son, as at the top he placed our angel
We wrapped it in lights, his favorite color of yellow
Then sat in the darkness, entranced by the glow
It was strange for sure, my wife and I thought
But this had more value, than any gift that could be bought
Next day I called a man, who owned a Santa suit
When I told him the story, not for a second did he dispute
He said he’d come by, and pay my son a visit
And when he knocked on our door, I playfully yelled, “Who is it?”
He walked inside, as my son was sitting in my chair
My son couldn’t say a word, all he could do was stare
I knew he wanted to cheer, he just didn’t have the strength
Yet he just smiled, with a wide ear to ear length
“**-**-**”, said the jolly old man
“You must be Johnny”, as he held out his hand
“Yes, that’s me.”, my boy softly said
Santa removed his hat, exposing the silver locks upon his head
“I heard from my elf, that you wanted us to meet”
Santa said, as he kneeled at my son’s feet
“I wrote you a letter”, my son said nervously
“Well, I’d love to read it”, Santa said with complete certainty
My wife then reached out, and handed Santa the note
As he read it, he seemed to get a tickle in his throat
He then looked at me, but I hadn’t yet read it
He had a look in his eyes, as if I might dread it
Santa passed me the letter, and I got my answer
I then read the words, “Santa please fix my cancer.”
My son wanted nothing, except the ability to live
However I knew that was a gift, even Santa couldn’t give
Santa gave him a hug, and then said goodbye
As he left I saw a tear, welling up in his eyes
“Santa will help me, won’t he dad?”
I said “I’m sure he will”, with everything I had
Nothing else was said, he just looked so relieved
He looked so sure, I knew it was something he believed
I carried him to bed, and there quietly he laid
As I prayed that his dreams, would carry him away
The next night, though the air was very heavy
I loaded him in his wagon, and asked if he was ready
I had another surprise, one that might lift his spirit
The smile on his face, said he was excited to hear it
As we made our way, out onto the rocky concrete
The night was lit, with the glow of lights on our street
Nearly every house, had put up their Christmas decor
His heart carried so much joy, I doubt it could take anymore
His eyes glistened, in the twinkle of red and green
It was like something, that my eyes had never seen
I never walked as slow, as I did then
Hoping that this moment, would somehow never end
He pointed and stared, and sat there in amazement
As together we traveled, down the stretch of neon pavement
A few neighbors, gave us a wave from their porch
As if to tell my son, he had their support
Then he asked, “Dad, is this all just for me?”
I tried to look confused, in a way that he could see
I then asked him, “What do you mean?”
He said that it was weird, that there was nobody else to be seen
There were no other people, no cars lined in a row
Didn’t they hear it was Christmas, why didn’t they know?
I didn’t want to lie again, so I told him the truth
So I told him, “Yes son, this is all just for you.”
“But why?” He asked, as I stopped pulling the wagon
He didn’t understand, his mind couldn’t imagine
“Because”, I said, “they all wanted to.”
“They heard you were sick, and it was the least that they could do”
When we got home, I took my son to bed
Then on his pillow, he softly laid his head
He then told me, “Dad, I think I’m ready to leave”
I said, “But you can’t, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”
He just smiled, as I pulled the covers up to his chin
He then closed his eyes, eyes he’d never open again
It’s been thirty years, since I’ve last seen my son
Though the fight was hard, it was a fight that he had won
I still miss my son, and I know I’ll see him soon
And every summer since, we celebrate our Christmas in June