A few weeks ago, we did something hard, and it ended up being a beautiful, life-honoring memory that we will cherish forever. If you’re from the greater Atlanta area, chances are you know about “Santa at Phipps” and have maybe even been to see him before or brought your children or grandchildren to see him. “Santa at Phipps” is a time-honored Atlanta tradition dating back to the ’70s and has always been a special tradition in my own family. My siblings and I grew up going to this Santa every year, and the experience never disappointed—simply the best Santa and some of the very best memories of my childhood.
When I finally became a mama, I knew I wanted to carry on that special tradition for my kids. So, in December 2019, we took Persy to visit Santa for his very first Christmas. He was almost eight months old and the happiest baby there ever was. Like everyone else he met, he seemed to love Santa immediately and gave a big Persy smile for the camera like only he could do. The next Christmas was 2020, and the world was turned upside down. Dependable as always, “Santa at Phipps” showed up for the community, but precautions had to be taken, and we ended up deciding not to take Persy that year, assuming, of course, that there would be many more chances in the coming years. But by Christmas 2021, Persy had just been diagnosed with stage 4 neuroblastoma the month before and was in the midst of heavy chemotherapy treatments. So, even though this was Kepler’s (born February 2021) first Christmas, we weren’t able to make it to Santa that year either.
By Christmas 2022, Persy was in a much better place. Having undergone several rounds of chemotherapy, in addition to MIBG therapy, surgery to remove the primary tumor, and multiple rounds of immunotherapy, the cancer seemed to be responding well, and at the most recent scans, he was showing only one remaining cancer site (as opposed to the 25 he started with only a year before). With everything looking so good, we made the trip to Atlanta to see “Santa at Phipps” with both of our precious boys. Persy was so shy with Santa, but his face radiated joy and excitement. Santa, true to form, was so gentle and patient with our sweet P. He immediately suggested Persy stand next to him instead of sit on his lap and then proceeded to slide down to the floor to get right on his level. By the end, Persy had warmed up a bit and, as always, gave the camera his 100-watt smile.
We left Santa that year just knowing that we would be back in 2023. We couldn’t have known that only a few weeks later, we would find out that Persy had relapsed and would go on to relapse again a few months later. More MIBG therapy and more radiation followed, and by the end of August, we were told that we were out of treatment options. Persy began in-home hospice care in September and went to heaven on September 23, 2023. During hospice, I remember receiving the email reminders to make our “Santa at Phipps” appointment for the upcoming fall. What a gut punch. It was a sickening, sinking feeling to realize that (barring the last-minute miracle we were still desperately praying for) by Christmas, our sweet Persy would be gone. There are no words to express the heartbreak I felt and still feel every moment I live without him.
The holidays were excruciatingly hard last year, but somehow we managed to trudge our way through them for Kep’s sake. We did the bare minimum. We picked out a tree at the same lot we had gone to with Persy the year before. We decorated it with all of the sentimental ornaments from previous Christmases when our family was still whole. We even bought some new ornaments to honor Persy and give us some small sense of closeness to him in the midst of his great big physical absence. But we didn’t take Kep to see Santa last year. There was just no way our hearts could take it, and we gave ourselves grace to make that choice.
This year feels so different than last year—harder in so many ways, as the numbness has begun to wear off. Hard to believe that this will be our second Christmas without Persy… especially when we only had him for four. But Kep is also so much older than he was. Last year, at just under three, he was still a baby in so many ways, but he has grown up a lot in the past year. Maybe losing his big brother and best friend is part of that. He became a big brother this year too, and with it, we watched him take on the identity of “big boy.” So, I decided that this year we had to take the boys to sit on Santa’s lap. As hard as it would be for me and Ryan, our boys deserved to go. They deserve to have the childhood that I always wanted for all of my children—the one that cancer stole from Persy and from all of us.
As I began to think about what I would pack for the boys to wear, I realized just how meaningful the timing would be. It just so happens that at his first Christmas, Persy was about the same age as Cort is now, and at his last Christmas, he was the same age as Kep is now. This meant that the boys would be able to honor their big brother in a very special way by wearing the same outfits he wore on the only two occasions that he visited “Santa at Phipps.” And this is the only year that would be possible. It seemed so meant to be.
A few days later, as we walked up to Santa, I had no idea what I was going to say but knew I had to tell him about Persy. We sat the boys on his lap, and I began to tell him about big brother Persy, who came to see him a couple of years ago but went to heaven the following September. I brought Persy’s picture for Santa to hold and thanked him for how kind and wonderful he was with P in 2022. I showed him a picture on my phone of that last visit to see him.
I don’t know why, but it caught me by surprise—the depth of emotion and the level of empathy and love Santa showed in this moment. I found myself deeply touched by his words and actions during this visit. It meant more to me and to our family than he could ever know. For a bereaved parent, just hearing your child’s name being spoken is like music to our ears. And having our child honored or remembered by others means everything to us. As Santa spoke Persy’s name, Ryan and I turned to each other and immediately began to cry. In doing so, we missed the next moment when Santa was also overwhelmed by emotion. It wasn’t until a day or two later, when we watched the video back, that we saw his genuine care and love for our family and for our precious Persy. What a beautiful gift Santa gave us that day—one more precious than any store could sell or any money could buy, one that would last us a lifetime and one that brought joy, love, comfort, and the peace and hope of Christmas to our hearts right when we needed it most.
As we left Phipps Plaza that day, I found my mind wandering ahead to next year and thinking about how much bigger the boys would be then. Cort would be one and a half by then, and Kep would be… almost five. The thought stopped me in my tracks. Kep would be almost five, which means by this time next year, he will have already passed Persy in age—a milestone I have been anticipating since Persy went to heaven and his physical body was frozen in time, forever four years, four months, and 29 days old. For a grieving parent, this can be an extremely difficult milestone, full of all kinds of bittersweet emotions. For this, and so many other reasons, we are often given the advice to take it one day at a time. And really, for me at least, that has been the only way to get through any of it. Because when you lose a child, you are faced with the horrifying reality that this can actually happen. Life as you know it can change in an instant. You, your child, or anyone you love can be here one minute and gone the next.
The truth is, we the grieving know better than anyone that tomorrow isn’t promised. That any breath we take could be our last. And with that, I’m beginning to realize that planning for the future is futile because the future doesn’t really exist. Only the present exists. The only future we can count on is the one we are promised by God, and that is our future of eternal glory in heaven with Him and with our sweet Persy.
“So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” —Matthew 6:31-34 NIV
“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.” —Colossians 3:1-4 NIV
“Jesus answered him, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.’” —Luke 23:43 NIV
“However, as it is written: ‘What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived’— the things God has prepared for those who love Him—” —1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV
“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” —John 3:16 NIV