Barry Ross

Condolences to you and your loved ones, Grace and Stuart, at the loss of your dear Barry. Wishing you solace at this sad time, and hoping that the love of so many of us who cannot attend the funeral in person will bring some comfort to your hearts and help to sustain you in the days ahead. I met Barry only a few times but delighted in his warmth and wonderful sense of humour. Dale and I know how deeply you must miss him already. We will be there for you in whatever way we’re able, so please don’t hesitate to reach out.

Grace and Stuart, Colin and I send our sincere condolences. Barry has always held a special place in my heart. I can only wish that his memory keeps you strong and eases your grief. This is so sad, I truly feel for both of you. Blessings to all.

Stuart, Gwen and I are thinking of you, Laurie, and Barry. He was such a welcoming presence at your wedding.

Dear Stuart and Grace and Laurie and all of Barry's many loved family and friends, I send my heartfelt condolences. Chris and Stuart, please know that your words today have given me the gifts of remembering my own moments with Barry, and also to hold my loved ones extra close today. Stuart, as you so eloquently said, Barry made immediate connections, so much like your Dad. Even the way he would say, "how are things going with you?", he did it with style and an honest desire to know the reply.

Barry was one of a kind and will surely be missed.

As adolescents ranging the suburban expanse of Bathurst Manor, Barry and I were attached at the hip. I often felt that I was a de facto fourth Ross brother during those years, spending extraordinary amounts of time hanging out with Barry in the decidedly spirited Ross household. Barry's misbehaviours were impressive in their frequency and I was usually present for the daily parental reprimands. Prodigious time wasters, we brought mastery to the art of goofing around. In truth, I just followed Barry's lead. He had a healthy disinclination for the serious, and even as a teenager, he seemed to have a deft insight into life's absurdities, which he accentuated and in which he took delight. He was a kind and compassionate soul, sweet and gentle, generous and sensitive, and he laughed frequently, deeply, infectiously. His pleasures were simple--honey-glazed donuts, Rothmans, his red Stella guitar, his imagined resemblance to Joe Cocker, baseball--and he was comfortable in his own skin. He was a community league baseball coach at the age of 17. One expects uncompromising narcissism and self-involvement from a 17-year old, but there was Barry, nurturing the youngsters in his charge with patience and with sensitivity, with encouragement and affirmation, with insight and boundless good humour. This is a sketch of a boy a long time ago, but I expect that those who knew Barry later in his life will recognize this boy in the man they loved.