This memorial website was created in the memory of our loved one,
Stephen Harter who was born in San Diego, California on February 13, 1985 and passed away on September 26, 2004 at the age of 19.
We will forever love and miss our beautiful son Stephen.
Love Eternal, Mom and Dad 

  If loved could have saved you

Stephen, you would 

have lived forever!



Welcome 
Thank you for visiting our precious Stephen's memorial page.  Please take a moment and light a candle, it helps to remind us that our precious son's memory lives on.

Stephen may not be with us physically, but our son is with us everyday and we feel his love with us always.

Our love for you grows more and more everyday Stephen. Be happy Stephen, please continue to watch over us, and know that your memory will live on forever.
Love eternal - Mom



A special Thank You to all those wonderful people who visit and light a candle in Stephen's memory.  Dan and I are so grateful for the comforting thoughts and prayers that continue to be extended to us. 

With heartfelt gratitude,
Dan and Cathy Harter



Your Life was a blessing.

Your memory a treasure...

You are loved beyond words and

missed beyond measure






Sweet Stephen

He had a smile that would sooth my soul
So precious and so true
When I think back of my beautiful son
O how his spirit flew

He had a face as bright as the sun
And clear as a sky blue and deep
When it awakens wonderful memories
I always break down and weep

Where have you gone, sweet Stephen

He had eyes filled with happiness
And as warm as a summer rain
I hated to look into those eyes
And see even an ounce of pain

He had a heart that was pure as gold
To have a heart such as his I would cry
So I wait for the thunder and lightening
To quietly pass me by

Where have you gone, sweet Stephen

Written by (Dad) Dan Harter










Stephen Nelson Harter was born on February 13, 1985 at Balboa Naval Hospital, San Diego, California.  He was a happy go lucky little boy, with a big beautiful smile and a contagious laugh. He was very curious about the world around him and was constantly exploring around our back yard and closely watched everything around him. 

As a toddler, Stephen’s favorite show was Sesame Street and his favorite character was Elmo.  One day Stephen decided to change his name to Elmo and Elmo on Sesame Street became Stephen.  Stephen refused to answer to his given name.  When people asked him his name he delightfully replied – “ELMO”.  For almost three years Stephen was known by family and friends as Elmo.

In December of 1987, Stephen’s father left the Navy and the family packed up and moved backed to our home state of Ohio.  Stephen was delighted to be able to spend more time with his grandparents and cousins.

His schooling began at Thomas Hook Elementary School.  While at Hook school, Stephen was active in the school Ham Radio program and in 1995 Stephen received his Technician License.  His call sign was KC8DNA.  He also had the responsibility of announcing the local weather in the morning.  He continued at Troy Junior High, onto Troy High School and his senior year he attended Upper Valley Vocation School.  Stephen graduated in 2003.

Stephen participated in several different sports.  He started by playing three years of baseball and decided he wanted to try soccer.  Stephen enjoyed soccer most of all.  His last year of soccer was his Freshman year in High School and due to reoccurring knee injuries his soccer days were over.

Stephen was delighted to begin working and earning money of his own.  His first job he worked as a dishwasher at Taggert’s Restaurant, which lasted for about two weeks and he moved on to Kentucky Fried Chicken as a cook.  He stayed with Kentucky Fried Chicken for about one year.  He moved on and began working for Sears in the internal marketing department.  Stephen enjoyed working for Sears but decided that after one year it was time to try something different that didn’t require waking up at 5:30 every Sunday to go to work.  Stephen’s last job was with Howell Rescue where he was given the nickname “Scooter”. 

Stephen’s passion was computers and video games.  He had big dreams to own his own company – Flying Turtle Studios.  His dream was to develop new games.  At the age of 6 Stephen drew his first story board for a computer game he wanted to create. In September 2003, Stephen began his computer programming courses at Sinclair Community College.  His first year at Sinclair he made the Dean list every quarter.  Stephen began his second year at Sinclair on September 14, 2004.  He was so excited to have his general education requirements out of the way and could finally start on his programming courses.  He was so excited about so many things happening in his life.  He had so many near future plans.

In September 2004, Stephen went to his family physician to discuss medication options for his mild anxiety/depression. His doctor gave him office samples of Paxil CR. Stephen’s physician told him that he might experience nausea, diarrhea, sexual side effects, but these should lessen once his body adjusted to the medication. On September 26th, 2004, seven days after beginning Paxil CR, our son committed suicide. He was nineteen years old.

The day Stephen passed away he was extremely distraught, irrational and agitated for no apparent reason. At the time, I did not understand his behavior, or what to do to help him. Since his death I have learned that Stephen was probably suffering from akathisia , a potential serious side effect of Paxil CR that can cause suicide. A side effect that Stephen, his doctor, my husband and I were not aware of until 2 weeks after Stephen was buried when the FDA announced a “black box” warning for all SSRIs indicating their potential to increase suicidal thoughts and behaviors among children and adolescents. The FDA had been aware of these serious side effects, but it and the pharmaceutical company withheld this information from physicians and the public.  In December, Prime Time Live exposed internal documents from the maker of the particular medication Stephen was taking. The company was aware of these potentially fatal side effects and suppressed the information according to the information uncovered by Prime Time Live.  Can you imagine our horror when all this information began to surface?  My husband and I firmly believe that if our son had not taken the SSRI he would be with us today.

How can we begin describe the life of our beautiful son in a few short paragraphs?  Stephen was a loving, gentle, caring, and creative person.  His quick wit delighted everyone.  His caring thoughts, words and deeds, provided comfort to so many.

Words could not begin to describe the pain we suffer daily.  Our hearts are forever broken. Stephen was our only child.  We will never know the joy of being grandparents and we will grow old alone.  The horror of that day will forever haunt us.  We miss our son so very much and love him with all our hearts.  If we had known then, what we know now, our son would still be with us.

Stephen, we are, always have been and always will be very proud of you.  We were blessed to have you for our son.

The Dash

Author Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth...
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars....the house...the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard...
are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at "dash midrange.")

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what's true and real,
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
and more often wear a smile...
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy's being read
with your life's actions to rehash...
would you be proud of the things they
say about how you spend your dash?




February 13, 1985
_____



September 26, 2004







Every night when I go to bed,

 I hope that 

I may never wake 

again, and every morning 

renews my grief. 


Franz Schubert







There is a sacredness in 

tears. They are not the mark 

of weakness, but of power. 

They speak more eloquently 

than ten thousand tongues. 

They are messengers of 

overwhelming grief...

and unspeakable love.” 


Washington Irving







Ever absent, ever near; 

Still I see thee, 

still I hear; 

Yet I cannot 

reach thee, dear! 

~Francis Kazinczy










In the night of death, hope 

sees a star, and listening love 

can hear the rustle of a wing. 

~Robert Ingersoll




Who Is The Elephant In The Room?

I am the elephant; you pretend not to see,
It’s not something I asked for, but I’m forced to be.

I try to fit in, I wear my disguise,
But people won’t look at me, they hide their eyes

It’s better not to talk, for saying wrong words is what you fear
You speak quietly now, for the elephant might hear.

This elephant in the room, understands your plight
It’s uncomfortable and awkward you want me out of sight.

It's not my fault, I wish you could see,
It’s not how I planned for my life to be.

The elephant in the room I did not ask to be
Look at me, look at me, can’t you see

The elephant in the room I do not want to be
Please don’t ignore me, please can’t you see.

You know the elephant is full of heartache and pain
That since my son died, my life’s not the same

But that’s not a good reason to shut me out,
That’s not what being a family or friend is about.

I don’t expect right words for you to say
Just remember my son, this is what I pray.

Just remember he once was a part of this earth
That he was my joy from the day of his birth

I know no one likes to see elephants cry
And the tears in my eyes, to hide I do try

Please understand, the elephant I wish not to be
It’s not something I asked for, but I’m forced to be.

So if to make you comfortable, I guess I’ll continue to be
The elephant in the room, you pretend not to see.

Written by:
Cathy Harter
10/7/07