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
Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2009, Volume 24 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.
JUST BEYOND THE VEIL......
OUR CHILDREN WAIT
THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT
.....by Christine Ross in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
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
Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2007, Volume 22 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.
"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
I USED TO CALL
YOU DADDY
.....by Christine Ross In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
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
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
When a father gives to his son, both laugh;
when a son gives to his father, both cry.
~Jewish Proverb
When I was a little girl,
Dad, you were my hero.
Some things never change
~ unknown
Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!
~ Lydia M. Child
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
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
It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons
© Johann Schiller
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
A man never stands as tall as when he kneels to help a child.
~ Knights of Pythagoras
The greatest gift I ever had came from God,
and I call him Dad!
~ Anonymous
It doesn't matter who my father was;
it matters who I remember he was.
~ Anne Sexton
My father didn't tell me how to live;
he lived, and let me watch him do it.
~ Clarence B. Kelland
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
My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person,
he believed in me.
© Jim Valvano
Anyone can be a father,
but it takes someone special
to be a dad.
~ unknown
THE PHOTOGRAPH
.....by Christine Ross in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001br>
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
