Missing Santa

I am going home this Christmas.

For my family, Christmas is the most awaited day of the year. It’s a day of strengthening our family ties by celebrating Christmas Eve together as one, big extended family in our small packed house in Manila. I have a wonderful memories of past Christmases, especially our own tradition of cooking, going to Christmas eve mass at 9 PM, eating the sumptous noche buena meal, playing kiddie games and more than ever, the opening of Christmas presents. For us children it is the most anticipated moment because it is no other than Santa Claus who personally gives out the countless gifts under the Christmas tree. However, this year is going to be different. This year Santa will be no longer with us. And we will definitely miss Santa.

Every 24^th of December my Titos, Titas and all of my cousins are staying in our ancestral home in Manila. Our Christmas celebration usually begins at noon, after lunch when my Mom and together with my Titas have bring the ingredients needed to cook our Noche Buena. The menu usually consists of family favorites: baked macaroni, pancit, relyenong manok, molo soup, biko, ube halaya, leche flan, and buko salad. Of course, our feast would not be complete without Christmas staples of Quezo de Bola, hamon, bibingka, puto bumbong and fruitcake. All of these are to be washed down with refreshing sago’t gulaman. While our mothers are busy cooking, the children are not without chores. Some of my grown up cousins are in charge of wrapping the last minute Christmas gifts, the girls are assigned to help out in the kitchen while me and the rest of the boys are in charge of cleaning the house, putting some last minute decors and making it to look more like Christmas. And of course with the usual talk of who is going to get what this Christmas Eve, the excitement brews as we look on the foot of the Christmas tree with those unnamed gifts. With Santa being the only person who knows what we are getting for the night, my cousins and I can only wait with unabated breath for the clock to strike 12.

After the 9 PM Christmas Eve mass with my family, we hurriedly go home as we start our mini-program before Christmas. It was my grandfather who will start all of those games. My Lolo will signal that there will be prize to those who will win the games. And me and my cousins will gang on him and raise our hands as we eagerly join the games. Those games are the usual stop-dance; bring me, trip to Jerusalem, and the sing-me-a-Christmas-carol game where the worst singer is given the larger amount of money. Lolo will surely make fun on all of us; he will make us laugh as he judge the winner of the game. His laughter was contagious, as the sound of laughter spread to every one in that house. Then he will pick a handful of coins in his plastic container and throw in the air, then we scramble on the floor to pick on those coins. My Tito and Titas were delightfully watching us as Lolo orchestrated the program. Fifteen minutes to twelve we will stop playing and Lolo will instruct us to hang on the wall our socks with our names on it, for him the dirtier the better. He says that Santa would put some candies, chocolates and money on it on Christmas morning. Then we would have our Christmas prayer as a family as the clock strikes at 12 midnight, the usual greetings of “Merry Christmas” plus the hugs and kisses to everyone then we feast on our Noche Buena that night. Few minutes after 12 MN, we will a faint laugh of “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” You can see our faces lights up, our eyes turn bright and round, and our lips flash with smile. “SANTA IS HERE!” every one shouted. Then from stairs Santa goes down, with an improvised sack which is our red-checkered bed sheet containing the some of the gifts that he will give. He wears an artificial white moustache, red pajamas and he had this small pillow on his belly that was tucked inside his shirt. The mere sight of Santa would make us laugh. Then he will repeat again the Santa greeting “Hohoho! Merry Christmas!” It was my Lolo. Then he will seat near the Christmas tree and then will start to have a roll call of our names. As we receive our gifts and opening it immediately, you can hear and see the delight in each and every one of us. Every Christmas Eve, Lolo was the star of the night. Many said that Santa wasn’t real; he is just an imaginary old person that people created. But for my family we can touch him, see him and hear him laugh. My Lolo is our Santa Claus. For us, Santa is not the usual big, fat, white-haired old folk. Santa is the simple ordinary grandfather who makes our Christmases amusing, happy and meaningful.

But this year’s Christmas celebration is going to be different. Santa will no longer be with us. Mid-March this year when I receive a call from my Mom saying my Lolo was gone. It was the first death my family has to face. During the wake, I remember the countless stories of how my Lolo cooked so well, how he made people laugh, his unforgettable poems, and his charm to children. But what I remember with him most was those Christmases that all of us spend together.

Most grown ups would say that say that Santa Claus is not real. We live in the modern world, and most of us would say that such stories about Santa Claus is only a made-up legend by parents who wants to trick their children to be nice so that their children would deserve a gift on Christmas morning. It is like the tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Curious George, the Cat in the Hat, and all the other imaginary creatures of childhood. Children live with a sense of wonder and excitement at things they don't understand. It's part of being a child, and part of trusting but rather to unexplained things that will happen in life. But when we grow up, we start to question the existence of Santa Claus, when our rational selves question Santa’s possibility, but still many of us hold on to that belief. The story of Santa Claus was like ''lying'', to be able to build on a sense of wonder and the spirit that will make magic happen for us without needing to get the credit.. But for me I refuse not to believe and that it is not about the presents, but the thoughtfulness behind the behavior, but I want to keep in my heart that Santa is real. Like my grandfather who became our Santa and made each Christmases memorable by making our simple childhood dream come true, which is to meet the real Santa Claus who brings smiles to children’s faces and makes everyone happy during Christmas comes to life. For he exemplified the spirit of Christmas.

I am going home this Christmas.

Though this year’s Christmas maybe different, I carry with me my own memories of our Santa as the gift-giver who shared the gift of joy and hope with those who believed. Lolo left a mark on us, though he will not be here, I am sure his memory will live in each of our hearts. Santa Claus is a real person for us, and he is kept alive by the spirit of Christmas he imprinted on us. If we truly believe in our hearts, that he does exist, indeed he will never die. Such is the memory of the funny Santa who makes our Christmases amusing, happy and very meaningful.