for our children
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music playing: SOLITUDE


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 bye,
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
Summer 2009, Volume 24 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.


There is a kind and gentle man that is the type of dad that dreams are made of. He never misses a soccer game, or an awards day, or a school presentation, or anything for his kids. When his kids are sick, he is there. When his kids are honored, he is there. When his kids just need their dad, he is there. Working hard and long hours is done only to produce wonderful family vacations and to provide his children with the things they need or the things that he wants them to have. But the most important thing he provides for his kids is....LOVE. His FAMILY comes first..... above and beyond anything else. It is understood at his job that NOTHING comes before his family. My children are lucky enough to have this kind of dad.

I reacall a time long ago when there was a sound of joy that came from deep within the soul of this dad as he stood there in the delivery room and first learned that he was the father of a "son". He held his baby so close as his eyes filled with tears. As his little baby grew older he became his dad's piggy back partner, his pitch and catch partner, his fishing partner, his camping partner, his mountain biking partner, his skiing partner, and his partner at work as they shared a job together. The death of his son literally brought this man to his knees. He prayed, kneeling below the window of his son's room, his eyes once again filled with tears and then that sound that came from deep within his soul was released, but this time not because of joy, but because of knowing that his son lie dead just beyond that window.

Sometimes a father and son have that 'special' relationship that is created because of a love that is shared. Their love is not an obligated love, but a love that transcends expectation. A love like these two share cannot be separated by the lack of physical presence. They continue to share in each other's spirits on this earth. One day this dad's eyes will fill with tears and that sound from deep within will be released because of joy, as his soul and his son's soul will reunite as father and son....... FOREVER on the other side.

There are many that have been a special father figure in some child's life. Sometimes this father figure comes in the form of a mom who has taken on both roles of a parent because of reasons beyond her control. Some father figures are those men that have loved a child and that child loved them and looked up to them. But whatever the situation, the nature of a father is to be with his children, not to be without them.

Oh how we long to just see our children once again and be with them once again. We can imagine that we see them, but is it really our imagination or are they really there? When we see someone that resembles our child, it takes our breath away and tears begin to fall. We can hear their voices in our minds, those voices that have a direct line from Heaven. Sometimes we think we need that reassurance that we see them, or that they speak to us.... but in reality, we need nothing but what we know from the nature of our hearts.

The nature of the earth is probably one of the best healers of grief. We can see our children in the sunrise, and we can taste them in the rain. The afternoon breeze brings their scent to us and we can feel their touch in the shadows of the evening. When the world is at its quietest that is when we can hear our children the most. The spirits of our children fill up all of our senses. We long for their love, we long for their laughter, we long to always be with them.... but most of all we long to be the one that dies in their arms, the one that dies first. But all of these senses that are aroused by the gift of nature returns our children to us in ways that we thought were impossible. Our children are here with us always because that..... is their nature.

2011 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001


Sometimes in the early morning.....
When the sun is just beginning to peek over the mountains
I see a glimpse of you as the light fills my tearful eyes.

Sometimes in the midday.....
When the rain is just beginning to sprinkle down from the sky
I savor a taste of you as the drops flood my quivering lips.

Sometimes in the afternoon.....
When the the breeze is just beginning to blow through the trees
I smell the scent of you as the wind engulfs my lonely soul.

Sometimes in the evening.....
When the stars are just beginning to twinkle in the sky
I feel a touch of you as the darkness shadows my broken heart.

Sometimes in the night.....
When the sounds are just beginning to fade from the earth
I hear a whisper of you as the silence quiets my troubled mind.

Sometimes I know you are here

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

Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!

~ Lydia M. Child


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
Summer 2007, Volume 22 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person,
he believed in me.

Jim Valvano


I used to call you Daddy
Back when I was very small.
I'd ride upon your shoulders,
It would make me feel so tall.

Many years we shared together,
Skiing and camping, and fishing,
Working together, talks at lunch,
All the times that we spent wishing.

Pitch and catch and mountain biking,
Back roads when we went Jeeping,
We had so many good times Dad,
Lots of memories well worth keeping.

I left you for another life.
It was my time to go away.
Just remember that I'm with you
Every minute of every day.

When your time comes to join me
You'll hear me calling out to you......
"Hey friend! Hey Dad! Hey Father!"
And I'll still call you "Daddy", too.

2004 - Christine Ross
~in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

My father didn't tell me how to live;
he lived, and let me watch him do it.

~ Clarence B. Kelland


He stood there in the chapel
As he clutched the photograph.
No words were spoken from his lips
All he could do was gasp.

He held the photo to his chest
As tears streamed down his face
Hoping for a miracle
In that "forever goodbye" place.

He glanced down at the photo.
Then a tear fell from his eye
And landed right upon the heart
Of his child that had to die.

No one understood the pain
This grieving father felt.
So they hugged him and his photograph
Not knowing how to help.

This photograph seemed magical
And helped him to understand
That for his child... this one last time
He had to be a man.

So he stood up proud and tall that day
And listened as they spoke
About the life of his child
He still needed in that photo.

He held on to that photograph
Through painful days and weeks.
But finally had to let it go
And let it rest in peace.

Just a stained and wrinkled photograph
Although much more than it seemed
It gave him strength to bear the pain
Never dreamed in his worst of dreams.

This cherished tearstained photograph
Is now a testament to us all
That tears can touch the silenced heart
Of a grieving father's child.

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

The greatest gift I ever had came from God,
and I call him Dad!

~ Anonymous

One night a father overheard his son pray:
Dear God,
Make me the kind of man my Daddy is.
Later that night, the Father prayed,
Dear God,
Make me the kind of man my son wants me to be.

~ Anonymous

A father is someone that holds your hand at the fair,
makes sure you do what your mother says,
holds back your hair when you are sick,
brushes that hair when it is tangled because mother is too busy,
lets you eat ice cream for breakfast, but only when mother is away.
He walks you down the aisle and tells you everything's gonna be okay.

~ Unknown

When a father gives to his son, both laugh;
when a son gives to his father, both cry.

~Jewish Proverb

A man never stands as tall as when he kneels to help a child.

~ Knights of Pythagoras

It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons

Johann Schiller

It doesn't matter who my father was;
it matters who I remember he was.

~ Anne Sexton

Small boys become big men through the influence of
big men who care about small boys.

~ Anonymous

They say that from the instant he lays eyes on her,
a father adores his daughter.
Whoever she grows up to be,
she is always to him that little girl in pigtails.
She makes him feel like Christmas.
In exchange,
he makes a secret promise not to see the awkwardness of her teenage years,
the mistakes she makes or the secrets she keeps.

~ Unknown

When I was a boy of fourteen,
my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around.
But when I got to be twenty-one,
I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.

~ Mark Twain

When I was a little girl,
Dad, you were my hero.
Some things never change

~ unknown

"I loved the boy with the utmost love of which my soul
is capable of and he is taken from me -
yet in the agony of my spirit in surrendering such a treasure,
I feel a thousand times richer than if I had never possessed it"

letter of William Wordsworth
on the death of his son, 1812

Anyone can be a father,
but it takes someone special
to be a dad.

~ unknown

My son,
a perfect little boy of five years and three months,
has ended his earthly life.
You can never sympathize with me;
you can never know how much of me such a young child can take away.
A few weeks ago I accounted myself a very rich man,
and now the poorest of all.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, on the death of his son


Rock-a-bye my little child.
Rock-a-bye to sleep.
Sleep within your Daddy's arms.
Sleep in restful peace.

Peace will come to you my child.
Peace when you awake.
Awake to love and happiness.
Awake to everyday.

Everyday will be a gift.
Everyday will come.
Come to find your purpose here.
Come to be my one.

One day you'll find the distant light.
One day you'll say goodbye.
Goodbye is not forever.
Goodbye... Rock-a-bye.

Rock-a-bye my spirit child.
Rock-a-bye to sleep.
Sleep within the angels arms.
Sleep until we meet.

2014 Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2002









Last Entry in Luke's Journal:

"When there is love in my heart and a smile on my face,
I need nothing else." ~ Luke Ross


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