In 2021, Mrs. Claus Goes to a New Home

It took six years and COVID-19 for Mrs. Claus to return.

When my mom died, my dad’s life was shattered. They’d been together for 65 years and she was his world; he’d sunk into a deep depression which exacerbated his other health problems. As determined as Mrs. Claus was, hunkered down in her dog-eared box in the storage room, she couldn’t brighten my dad’s spirits come the holiday season.

Christmas was no longer joyous for my father; without my mom’s encouragement, he couldn’t pick out cards or gifts for us. December 25 was a day filled with grief-filled nostalgia for the holidays we once celebrated, a time to amplify the sense of loss Dad felt all year.

Then COVID-19 hit, days after celebrating my dad’s 88th birthday. We dropped off food, but we didn’t stay at first. Then we were able to include him in our ‘COVID bubble’ and visited him—but not often. Despite our best efforts, we couldn’t spend adequate time with him. He said many times that he felt the walls were closing in; his age, forced physical isolation, and lack of social activities wore him down and he was both mentally bored and emotionally exhausted.

After several months of trying our best to keep him occupied, alert, and happy, we started to dread another Christmas—this one, without a rambunctious family celebration. We knew he was no longer excited about the holidays, but he always enjoyed a big turkey dinner with all the fixings—and spending the day with his kids, grandkids, and great-grandson. This was not about to happen in 2020.

But one cold December night, I received a text—and a picture—from Addi, my niece.

“OMG I am sobbing!!!!! Look at what Papa did!!! It’s going to be Christmas again!!!”

I glanced at the accompanying photo.

There was Mrs. Claus, resplendent in her red velvet granny gown, her bobbing candle lighting the way. She was in the very centre of my Dad’s empty dining room. Where the dining room table had been. Where we’d shared meals and stories and family love. And now, the table and chairs had been replaced by…hope. At the end of a year when hope was in short supply, Mrs. Claus had returned. It’s like she’d known we needed her.

My Dad simply smiled and said, “I just thought it was time.”

My niece and her brother had grown up knowing Mrs. Claus and anticipating her arrival each year. Both ‘kids’ are in their 30s now, but Addi squealed with delight when she walked into my dad’s apartment that night, and excitedly explained to her young son Chayse—who was eight—how important a role Mrs. Claus had played in her own childhood.

In 2020, many eight-year-old boys favor Minecraft, and Chayse is no different; he can spend hours playing computer games and waging war on digital fantasy foes. A 30-plus-year-old, mechanical Mrs. Claus doll would likely hold little interest for an eight-year-old boy, right? It’s not exactly the type of robot a kid of today might be fascinated by.

But Mrs. Claus…she’s a crafty one, coming out of hiding just when we needed her most, her lit candle a beacon through the fog of 2020. Chayse lay, silent and wide-eyed at her feet as he listened to his Papa and Mommy sing Mrs. Claus’s praises.

Dad passed away in 2021; Mrs. Claus has moved to a new household, one in which she'll be loved as much as in previous generations. She's home once again. Chayse couldn't wait to take her out of her box.