Dad is Santa

"You have got to tell them." I could hear my older sister Rose in the kitchen with my dad. I had just gone to bed and could hear them talking in the kitchen.
"You cannot wait any longer, they have to know now."
"You are right, I will go tell them now."

Dad came into the bedroom and turned on the light.
"Kitten, Mariah, I need to talk to you."
These were Dad's nicknames for us. Kitten was Cathy, age six, and I had just turned eight.
Dad pulled both of us to his lap and gave us both a hug.

"I need to tell you about Santa Claus. You see me and Ma were Santa Claus. There really was never a Santa Claus. It was me and Ma buying the toys."
Dad was quiet and let us absorb the news.
Cathy being the smarter of the two of us finally spoke up and asked Dad. "Were you the Easter Bunny too?"
"Yes." Dad looked so sad. He got up, turned off the lights and left the room.

We did not respond to Dad's news. I think it was because Ma and the baby had died the month before, and like the whole family, we were still in shock.

Admittedly, when the lights were out, I quietly sobbed. It was not for the loss of Santa but for the loss of Ma, and the sadness I saw in Dad. My Christmas magic was gone.