Christopher's Legacy

Christopher's Legacy

by Liisa Laine

I have been trying to write this post for few days now, but everytime I began I would start to cry and needed to stop. Today I will try one more time...

On August 12, 1995 my nephew Christopher Ryan Scarpino was killed in a car accident. He was such a gifted and fine young man, at the beginning of his journey into adulthood. Since that day we have been finding over and over just how special he was. Chris was a musician and a writer. He left behind many journals and notebooks filled with his creative spirit. He also left many tapes of his songs. My husband is sorting through these tapes, as this was another way they connected on a very deep level. I know that a large part of my husband's grieving is doing this, but I cannot listen to Christopher's voice yet. It still hurts too much.

Anyway I am drifting here....when Chris died my sister began reading his notebooks and journal, and found some amazing things. One of them was a poem called _In the Graveyard_. This poem was read by Christopher's sister Kate at his burial on August 16. 1995. Today I want to share this with you:

In the Graveyard

Tonight I will whistle a tune to
Clear the air of any Goblins hiding
This song will mate with the breeze and
Be carried to mountaintops and across the rippling sea
And great sweeping plains where
The low moans of those who have left life echo.

They will hear this song and know the Words by heart,
Singing in great heavenly
Choirs, sending the song back to me,
Through canyons and rivers and
Forests seeping into the timbers and earth
Of every dwelling along the way
So that all things breathing are
Surrounded by the Songs of the Angels.

Tonight I will whistle a tune to
Shake the leaves on the trees, stir the sands
Of the desert and breathe across hollows
And depressions in the ground.

These places will hear my tune, And they too will sing out with such Mighty voices that this song Will meet with the Song of the Angels Above my head and create such sound That I will have to lie still and let Myself be carried off by it,
Eventually sinking into the
Harmony so far that I am
A color in the music
That paints the morning
Each day.

-written by Christopher Ryan Scarpino-

He could never have known how much his writings and recordings would mean to all of us when he was gone. He was a young man who housed an old soul. Thank you for reading these words and sharing with me.


If you wish to write you can reach Liisa at: [email protected]
Or Christopher's mother Barbara Scarpino at: [email protected]

mail welcome

Both Liisa and Barbara would welcome mail of support and understanding, particularly from those who have experienced a similar loss.

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Crisis, Grief, and Healing: Tom Golden LCSW