"A Little Help from Santa " by Dulce C

            The holidays were something she always looked forward to and during the holidays, all the bad thoughts seemed to have disappeared. No matter how sick he was, everyone was confident he was going to make it at least until the New Year. The cancer had spread to his nose now, his body weakening and the illness had definitely taken its toll. She was only seven and she had not yet comprehended what exactly was going on. She knew daddy was sick, but not with a cold, he went to the hospital for it and got some medicine to make him feel better and she knew that because every time she asked him he told her he was feeling better with each day that passed. She would always want to cuddle up next to him in bed any chance that she could. She would get a little antsy in bed sometimes and make him feel nausea, but only because it was one of the side effects from his medication. Whenever that would happen, she would feel terrible, like it was her fault daddy was not feeling well. He would always look at her, too weak to explain that it was not her fault at all, aimlessly shaking his head when she would apologize to him. Aside from all this, he always put a smile on his face and never made his condition seem nearly as bad as it actually was. Christmas Eve approached and a week or so before the holiday he wanted to get out of bed, a sudden burst of energy came over him as he tried getting out of bed himself. Mom frantically helped him as he tried walking independently for the first time in five months. He settled on the couch downstairs, on the side closest to the chimney. He was even weaker than he had ever been, almost as if the trip out of bed and down the stairs had taken the last of him. He was unable to sit up on his own anymore and needed help doing almost everything. He wanted to sleep by himself downstairs on Christmas Eve, so he did. Now, Christmas morning was as all the other ones had been in years past, they all walked down stairs together to enjoy each others' company along with all that was under the tree. Walking into the living room where the couch was they were all shocked to see what was in front of them. He had sat up on the couch, without any help and the most genuine smile any of them had seen in months. She was just happy that daddy was looking a lot better. She still very much believed in Santa Claus and with all the presents under the tree, there was no reason for her not to. When they all asked him how he managed to sit up by himself, he said he had a little help from Santa. The milk she left out that night before had been drunk and the cookies had been eaten. She knew daddy had not able to keep any real food down in months. Santa had to have helped him up. There was no doubt in her mind about it.

That would be his last Christmas and Kevin Arthur Congo passed away December 30, 2005 leaving his daughter, son, and wife behind not by choice but at the mercy of a terminal illness.  I still do have some belief in Santa Claus, I will admit. Nothing else would lead me to believe otherwise than what happened that Christmas morning, witnessing a true miracle.