I woke up early this morning
Just as the sun was beginning to rise.
I reached out for my husband.
He wasn't there, to my surprise.

I arose and went to the window.
On the porch was his shadowy form.
He was probably just reminiscing
In the misty veil of the dawn.

Silently I remained inside
Hidden secretly from his sight.
Allowing him his solitude
Outside in the pale moonlight.

His silhouette took my breath away.
The eerie resemblance of our son
The one that died many years ago
Leaving us grieving and so alone.

Quiet tears began to fill my eyes
With memories of life and joy.
Longing once more for days gone by.
Wishing my husband still had his boy.

I pondered in the stillness
The pain this man should have been spared.
I wanted to go out and hug him
And tell him how much I cared.

I dared not disturb his reverie
Because I know how I cherish mine,
So I waited inside just watching him
As the clock ticked away the time.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder,
A whisper "You can't sleep either hun?"
I turned quickly away from the window.
Standing next to me was my husband.

So I gazed back out the window.
The silhouette I had seen was gone.
Then my husband said "It's okay sweetie,
"He's been out there all night long."

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2007, Volume 22 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

If only our children were Easter eggs,
Hidden safely in the grass,
We could search for them and pick them up,
And hold them within our clasp.

We'd have a Heavenly Easter egg hunt,
All with baskets in our hands,
Searching with a broken heart.
Only WE can understand.

"Oh, look I found your child over here",
"Hey, did anyone find mine?"
They are so beautifully colored,
And they sparkle and they shine.

These aren't your usual Easter eggs,
They each have their own special glow,
That comes from way down deep within,
Only a parent in grief would know.

We gather up our special eggs,
With excitement all around,
For the gift that we've been given,
For the treasure we have found.

We all now stare with wonderment,
At our children that have died.
We want to hold them once again,
And release them from inside.

But we all begin to realize,
We have to crack their beautiful shell,
The one that, makes them sparkle and glow,
The one they have earned so well.

We know we can't destroy their beauty,
And take them from their place,
So we give them an understanding kiss,
As a tear runs down our face.

One by one we take our baskets,
With our beautifully colored eggs,
And place them gently in the grass,
As we turn and walk away.

We look back in amazement,
As our eggs begin to sing.
We see them flutter and move about.
"Look, our eggs all now have wings."

Then the Golden Egg begins to speak...
"Your children are safe with me."
"You'll be with them when the time is right,"
"Together for all eternity."

We stand their in a circle of love,
As we look up to the sky,
Watching our radiant eggs take flight,
Knowing our children didn't die.

© 2003 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Spring 2008, Volume 23 No. 1
and
Spring 2009, volume 24 No. 1
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

I gazed up at the statue
As I stood there at her feet.
The Angel of Hope was saddened.
Then she began to weep.

I watched her as a teardrop
Streaked slowly down her face.
I looked around at all the names
Surrounding her in this place.

I thought how weary she must be
From carrying every child
Across the sky to heaven,
Away from us, ...for awhile.

I wondered why she was so sad.
She knew the children had a home.
It was then I realized that her tears
Were for us, ...here all alone.

I felt it was a miracle
That a statue really cried.
Then teardrops fell upon the names
Of all the children that had died.

I turned my eyes to heaven.
The whole sky was shedding tears.
I had thought that these were raindrops
For so very many years.

The angel cried with me today
So did the children's names in stone.
Their teardrops fell upon my skin
And I no longer was alone.

© 2008 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Winter 2008, Volume 23 No. 4
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

also recited at:
Phoenix,AZ Angel Of Hope Candle Lighting Service
December, 2008
AND
York, PA Angel of Hope Candle Lighting Service
December, 2008

The silhouettes of fatherhood
From another time and place,
Grief has cast it's shadow
On his cheerful father face.

The contour of his happiness
Created sometime long ago,
Darkened by his agony
And the truth he's come to know.

The profile of his peacefulness
Embraced in days gone by,
Shaded by his loneliness
And the many tears he's cried.

The shape of all good things to come
Yearned for in future days,
Blackened by reality
Of death that's come his way.

The form of his existence
In the life he thought he'd live,
Clouded by his pleading
That his life he'd gladly give.

The figure of fulfillment
From yesterdays desires,
Obscured by constant mourning
And all that it requires.

The likeness of tomorrow
Won't bring the things it should.
Soon he'll find the light within
The Silhouettes of fatherhood.

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2009, Volume 24 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

Once there were two aspens
Standing tall against the sky,
Taking in the warmth of breezes
As their leaves just fluttered by.

Then from those two tall aspens
Two more little aspens grew
In a grove there in the forest
Touched by the morning dew.

They gathered in the sunshine,
Then they quenched upon the rain.
Four aspens playing in the wind
Sometime before the winter came.

In the springtime how they glistened,
Then had the warmth of summer winds.
Little did the four trees know
This would never come again.

Autumn gave them golden leaves
As they stood so proud and tall,
Then suddenly a cold wind blew
And their leaves began to fall.

The wind was blowing violently
With a howling lonesome sound.
Then with an eerie silence
One tree fell to the ground.

The youngest tree lay cold and still
As the sky released the rain.
Then drops of sorrow trickled down
From the three trees that remained.

Raindrops quietly turned to snow,
Just as the barren aspens feared.
Autumn, spring, and summer... gone
And a long, long winter here.

© 2008 - Christine Ross
~ In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
Fall 2009, Volume 24 No. 3
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

I took a walk on Christmas day
In the cool crisp winter air.
The trees bowed down before me
And they whispered in my ear.

"Walk lightly on the pathway.
Tip-toe quietly as you go.
Remember all the days gone by
Of the life you used to know."

Along the path were Christmas trees
And stars and angel wings,
Toys for little children
But no children could be seen.

Bright red bows and Christmas wreaths
And flowers all around,
Big brass horns and jingle bells
Although they made no sound.

Manger scenes and ornaments
And little twinkle lights,
Santa Clause and reindeer,
That didn't come last night.

Decorations everywhere,
It was Christmas at this place.
All was well until I felt
A teardrop on my face.

I walked lightly on the pathway.
I tip-toed quietly as I prayed.
Then I looked down and saw it...
His name upon his grave.

"It's Christmas", whispered all the trees
To the graveyard names below.
And I remembered days gone by
Of the life I used to know.

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~ In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
Winter 2009, Volume 24 No. 4
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

I passed a soldier's grave today
And I kneeled and said a prayer.
I wondered if our country knew
How much this soldier cared.

I walked around the graveyard
Thinking of the sacrifice
Of those that gave us freedom
And in the battle lost their life.

How some had died so far away
While they served our country well,
How some of them died back at home
After surviving battle's hell.

In the distance I saw someone
Holding up a little flag,
Then they knelt and placed it
On the grave where I had prayed.

I heard them say "I love you",
Then they stood up straight and tall
And said "I'm proud to be the parent
Of a child that chanced it all."

I thought about this freedom
That can never be repaid,
And I thought about my only son
Not a soldier, but in a grave.

Although he died, I'm thankful,
And although his years were few,
While he lived upon this earth
It was "freedom" that he knew.

I possess this simple freedom
Just to walk amongst the graves,
And mourn the death of my own son,
Because of what a soldier gave.

© 2009 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001