Frankie’s Story

The beauty in the life of Francis Commisso, or Frankie, wasn’t rooted in the traditional expectations for a 25 year old. The quality of his life isn’t measured by his career goals, his school successes, or anything of the sort. Frankie’s life was a unique one--it was one of inspiration, happiness, passion and boundless talent.

Francis was the kind of person who put himself last. He looked after everyone, and did whatever he could to make a positive change in people’s lives, even just for a few beats. Often, he used his talents--be it as a gifted musician, a talented artist, an exceptional soccer player, or a thoughtful chess opponent--to connect to people, to find similarities in interests to spark a passion flame in someone’s eye. 

He was one of the lucky few who was good at everything he had a passion for. He took guitar lessons as a child, but used his knowledge to expand his skills and teach himself piano and vocals, as well as mixing and crafting songs. He quietly filled notebooks and computer drives with song lyrics and clips of music, and spent hours listening to songs by artists he loved like The Neighbourhood, Dermot Kennedy and Masego, as well as popular artists like Ariana Grande and Mac Miller, so that he could learn to play them himself. He would craft perfect playlists for any mood, and he remembered everyone’s musical preferences so he could be sure to play something everyone would be sure to enjoy. 

Somebody with the talent Francis had could’ve developed a huge ego, and grown to think they were superior to others. But, Frankie, in typical Frankie fashion, used his skill as a tool for good: he found a way to connect to anyone with anything he could. He could spend hours talking to whoever wanted to talk to him, sharing his passion or learning something new about the world. Somehow, his talent in the arts and his unique perspective on life humbled him. He never wanted anyone to be alone, and his warm heart and desire to understand the world as a whole helped him make sure no one ever was. 

Whenever he would feel something – be it happiness, sadness, anger or any variation of them – Frankie would turn to music. It led to the most extensive, diverse Spotify collection most people could ever imagine, but it was his safe space. Playing would take him out of his head, to an escape from reality where he could find serenity again. Listening would make him feel less alone, act like a constant friend in times of need. In short, his life was one that was lived through song. And it will be celebrated in the same way, with music.

Join one of AMP’s free online activities June 12-18

Listen to Frankie’s Guitar Stuff playlist on Spotify

Listen to Frankie’s Chill Vibes playlist on Spotify

Listen to Frankie’s Skating in the Fall playlist on Spotify

How You Can Help

Erica’s Story

I will never be the person I was before June 12, 2021. I hardly recognize her. I’m coming to realize that, while loss is a painfully traumatic and awful thing to experience, my brother is still teaching me lessons every day. 

It’s terrible, of course, that I will no longer be able to live life without carrying around some semblance of pain like a shoulder bag, or like the pendant with my brother’s initials that never comes off from around my neck. I will never be able to hear some songs without thinking of him, or maybe even without crying. I’ll never be able to hear him sing again. He’ll never recommend a song to me again. I won’t get to tell him that our favourite bands growing up are back from decades-long hiatuses. 

When we were in our teenage years, we would go to concerts together without fail. He was always by my side, singing or dancing or jumping along. When I was old enough and had some kind of job, I paid for his tickets so we could go together. Then, when he was old enough, he outpaced me, learning how to play the songs we grew up loving on his own. 

This year, I went to a music festival in the hopes of lightening the weight of my grief, surrounded by people I love dearly. But music forced me into a state of catharsis, crying as I took in songs I knew he loved and moments and lyrics that remind me of him. I have his handwriting tattooed on my arm, in the form of lyrics to one of my favourite songs. It’s another one of my constant reminders that he’s always here with me, in the form of music, memories, and lessons. 

But, he’s taught me to be a better person, to see the world differently, and to remind the people I love that I care about them. When he was here, he wouldn’t do it with words, but by example. His kindness and thoughtfulness were shown in his actions, his learning how to play songs people loved on guitar or playing my favourites in the car or whenever I had to help him put furniture together. He taught me that one person really can make a difference, a legacy I am happy to continue in his name, honour and memory. His music will live on forever in me, and in every time someone strums a guitar or listens to a song he loves.