Every year since I was old enough to understand, so for around 48 years or so, my Uncle Tom would call me on Christmas Eve to tell me he had information that Santa was on his way to my house.  This delighted and charmed me when I was a child.  As a teenager I remember feelng awkward and weird about it.  As an adult I sometimes wondered why he continued with it, but it was part of my life.   I never considered more about it, or thought about what it meant that he was doing it.

After losing him, I started thinking more about it, and realized some things.  It meant that every time I moved (which was a lot when I was younger), he always got my phone number.  He always knew where I was.  Every year he thought about me, and reached out to me.  He maintained that connection to me despite the times when it was awkward or weird.  Because he loved me.  I remember family telling me when I was very small we were practically inseparable.  He was always very special to me.  His wife, Alice, was an adult I could speak to even when talking to my own mother was difficult.  They were both always there for me.  And he demonstrated that every year, by maintaining contact with me, no matter what.

Last year when he called, I spent around an hour on the phone with him. Catching up with family news and asking all sorts of questions about how he met Alice, and other family history stuff.  It was wonderful and sweet.  Alice recently told me he'd been tickled that we spent so long on the phone.  I was really looking forward to the call this year, to continue talking with him.  

I will hold that memory close, and keep that love alive in my heart.  I love you, Uncle Tom.