Yes, Miranda, there is a Santa Claus.

He came in October and dropped a precious gift on my doorstep. You see, Miranda, he took your childlike wisdom and taught this cranky, old reporter a lesson about faith, hope and love.

Not long ago you left a handwritten note in an envelope on your grandfather’s grave site in Lewiston. It was written in black, erasable ink.

Do you remember? Well, I have it.

Please don’t be mad. I’m not one of those of creepy people who combs cemeteries and steals stuff.

A kind-hearted person found your envelope last week. She – I’ll say she’ because the penmanship is pretty, like yours – sent it to me because it made her smile. Maybe even made her cry. And she wanted me to let you know your prayers are in good hands.

I hope this won’t embarrass you, but I need to share what you wrote. It’ll help a lot of people who’ve lost grampies, grammies, mommies and daddies feel better. I promise.

“Dear Grampy, It’s been three years since you left me. I miss you dearly. In the past few months you have come to me from my dreams and from your house. If only you could come to me again I would be so happy. I love you.”

You’re smart. You realize that even when people we love get sick and go to heaven, they don’t leave us. You know that Grampy reads your letters. That he’s cheering you on through everything special you accomplish in life.

But did you know he’s such a strong, special guy that he even helped two complete strangers this week?

The nice lady who sent me your letter was in the cemetery leaving flowers for her mom and dad when your open envelope brushed across the grass and landed at her feet. She mailed it to me with her own note to say she was touched by your warmth and caring.

Many grown-ups don’t have those two emotions figured out, Miranda.

“Please tell her when you write your column,” she continued, “that Grampy came again through a stranger by way of the strong winds we had a few days ago to reassure her that Grampy will always be with her in spirit.”

You reminded her that it’s OK to have dreams and great memories about the people we can’t hold, hug or kiss anymore.

And you reminded me how special cemeteries are. So I stopped at a couple on my way home from work. I wanted to see what other special things girls and boys or their parents did to honor loved ones.

There weren’t any other envelopes. But I did see plants, badges, boots and ceramic kittens. Things people loved. Just like I bet Grampy loved handwritten notes.

Later, I found another spot in memory of a boy who had been in a car accident. His family left behind his CD player, his art work and a bottle of his favorite soda. I bet he smiled when he saw that just like your Grampy did.

I have a little boy, Miranda, and I gave him a bunch of extra hugs that night. See, Grampy was responsible for that, too.

Miranda, this surely isn’t a perfect world. People don’t always respect other people’s feelings or belongings. Especially at this time of year, with Halloween around the corner, some kids take things away from cemeteries as if it’s a joke.

So I want you to know that your note is safe and sound on my desk. If you want it back, you and your mom or dad are welcome to call, write or visit me at the newspaper.

If you don’t, just know that I’m going to look at it often and keep it in a very special place. As a gift from Grampy.

Kalle Oakes is the Sun Journal’s staff columnist. His e-mail is koakes@sunjournal.com.

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