Ode to Christopher

How do you paint a picture
Of who somebody was
And the mark he left
On the world?
Perhaps it would be
Through the words
And remembrances
Of the people
Who knew him best.
He was the oldest son
Of my youngest brother
And he died from
A construction accident.
His father took pride
In the fact that Chris
Was rising quickly
In the construction world.
He was a roofer,
Following in his father’s footsteps.
His supervisor
Remember him as one of
The best men he had.
Even though he was
Only twenty-one years old,
He was exceptionally sharp
And a quick learner.
He knew how to work hard
When he wanted to.
You can hear who he was
In his mother’s words
When she speaks
Of how helpful he was
Around the house,
Conveniently forgetting
All the battles they had
Trying to get him that way,
Or the fact that he
Never once smiled
While doing any of those tasks.
You can hear it
In the words of Hatty,
His girl friend,
About his gentle side
That taught her so much
About being able to trust.
You can hear in the words
Of his friends
About how he liked to party
Which sometimes got him
Into a lot of trouble.
There are also stories told
About some of the crazy things
He sometimes did
That goes to prove
That he was human too.
There was the brand new truck
That he sold
For the chance to travel
And the money he spent
For partying instead of pictures,
Yet with all his imperfections,
There is a realization
That he was somehow perfect.
He lived his life, struggled
Explored and sought his own way,
And dared to be unique.
Even in death
He makes a difference
For the organs he surrendered
May make a quality life
Possible for numerous others
And who knows how far
His legacy may go.
Maybe his twenty-one year old heart
Will give new life
To some old codger,
And his eyes will enable
Someone to see
Who might have been blind.
Who can say
Where a life begins
And where it ends?
In a final irony,
The place where
He is now buried
Is the old cemetery
Right across the street
From his old high school,
The same one where he
And his friends
Used to ditch
And go for a smoke
Years before.
In life and in death
He left his mark
On all who knew him.