The biggest mystery of all
Since we lost my friend Trent, there have been many questions. Most of them by now have been answered, except for the timeless and unanswerable “why”. As spiritual as I am, I still struggle with this one. I can hypothesize all day long about why someone so good was taken from us so tragically. I suppose that is one answer I will have to wait to receive when my time on this earth is complete. But I am not here today to roll in the grief. I am here today with perhaps an even bigger mystery that I most likely will never solve…
How did my giant University of Kentucky starting offensive lineman, best bench presser on the team, behemoth of a friend squeeze himself into a two door Volkswagen Scirocco?
The summer of 1994 I was on my way to work as a lifeguard, stopping by the local Winn Dixie (most likely for a Diet Coke) and in a big hurry. Head down and on a mission to get to my car, I almost missed him, which is hard to believe considering his size. But there was Trent, leisurely making his way into Winn Dixie as I was rushing out. Everything he did was with an air of ease, totally relaxed even in the midst of chaos. His voice broke my trance, and I looked up to see Trent's golden smile. He asked me to sit with him for a bit, so I swallowed my anxious need to keep moving and settled into the passenger seat of his Scirocco. The only way that his body worked in that car was with the seat all the way back and fully reclined. A polar bear in a sardine can, Trent took up most of the room. Yet in that space, I did not feel claustrophobic or constrained. I felt free. Expansive. Calm. The inside of that tiny little 90's sports car was a lovely, quiet, peaceful vacuum of friendship. The perfect salve for my anxious need to hurry.
We talked for about ten minutes. I told him how my summer was going, he said he wanted to go to law school after graduation. He invited me to his 21st birthday party in Lexington that Saturday, I told him I had to work. Eventually we said our goodbyes and parted ways. Four days later he was gone, killed at the party I couldn't attend.
It has been thirty years since I sat next to my friend in his Scirocco, and for the most part I have come to terms with the fact that he is gone. Our core group has stayed together, bonded by tragedy, true friendship, and time. Trent's parents are now our honorary parents, and we have done a pretty great job of keeping his memory alive for a bunch of kids who grew up in the country. Yes, we still grieve. Sometimes together, most of the time alone in our own way. But we also laugh… a lot. We remember our friend and all of the crazy stories of our time together, and we know that as long as we have each other and his love, we are never alone.
How did Trent fit into that tiny little car? The way he fit everywhere… with ease and a golden smile.
