The song "Sometimes It Snows in April," by Prince, expresses the idea that even during really beautiful times, a blanket can cover the warmth and love and shatter everything. What makes this song so special to me is that it was my cousin's favorite song. This was the first song to play during Trent's funeral, and it has stuck with me ever since. As I sat next to my brothers, watching everyone express a numb stare towards the procession, I entered a different world. This world was the one I lived in before the tragedy, before Trent lost his faith in it and love for it. Thoughts about the past, the present, and even more frightening, the future, kept me preoccupied during my life's most heart wrenching, draining, and scary experience.
When were were growing up, Trent was our family's pied piper. The cousins looked up to him, both as a role model and his tall and thin structure. As far back as I can remember, he was always the one to initiate the fun at any family gathering, whether it be making videos with Jurassic Park figurines, complete with intense Mortal Kombat music, or dancing to numerous songs by Prince. Otherwise, he would be singing into a remote control and gulping down a slurpee. Though he was charming and handsome, his hair always became inspiration for jokes, and every Christmas, someone would buy him a comb and hope that he would use it for once. My oldest brother was the closest to him, and they would do everything together, even though they were four years apart in age. However, after Trent went off to college, we seldom saw him. A few years later, after he had graduated and gotten a steady job, he visited us and we all went out for dinner. As if nothing had changed, Trent was still as goofy as ever. His hair was even the same, and we, with much enthusiasm, brought up the comb joke. The new millennium had just occurred, so we spent hours talking about how we thought by then there would be robots and hovercrafts. This was the last time I saw or even heard from Trent until around 2006.
Trent came to visit the family again, but for some reason my immediate family was unable to see him, and I know it disappointed him. I still wish every day that I had gone to see him, and it gets harder and the regret gets worse every day. A year later, on August seventeenth, Trent committed suicide. When I heard my dad on the phone with my aunt, whose words were just audible beneath the tears, my life changed more than I ever expected it to in a situation like that. I felt like my heart was torn out and my soul was taken, all by one person's actions. I couldn't look anybody in the eyes after his death because I saw him in everyone. I knew he was all around me, but back then I thought it made accepting his death even harder. During his wake, Prince songs played on the radio all day, and it was the most intense feeling I have ever felt. The hardest part for me, however, was watching my oldest brother stare at Trent's casket. We never expected this to happen in our family, let alone to Trent. With a death like this, we wanted to place blame on something, but we began to blame ourselves, which wasn't very healthy. I never knew when this suffering was going to end, if it was ever going to end.
With death, we find ourselves going through such excruciating pain, but we hope that soon, with time, the pain will fade. With Trent, the pain never faded. I started to blame him, becoming angry at him for ending his own life. Knowing he had that much control, not just over his death, but everyone's pain as well, almost destroyed me. I felt like Trent's weakness had somehow found me too, and that scared me. Then I realized something. Though Trent was an amazing person, I am not the same as him. I have the strength that he sadly was never able to find. I looked at all my friends and family and realized that they are where my strength lies. With their support and guidance, I am able to stray away from the path that Trent decided to take. Every day, I think about how he must not have had the incredible support that I do, and it makes me sick knowing how alone he must have felt. I have learned so many things about life from him more than anyone has ever been able to teach me. In life, he taught me to always be myself and never be afraid to show my true side to people, no matter what they think. He showed me an incredible enthusiasm for life and love, though he stopped believing in it himself. In death, he taught me that everyone has weaknesses and struggles, no matter how perfect they are. My life seemed almost inconsequential until his death. I had never experienced great pain and I never struggled with myself before. Then, I learned that life is short, precious, but also fragile. I know now that he never did it to hurt his family, just to end the struggles that he was afraid to face. Though I will never be the same and the pain will never go away, I have changed my perspective on life and I intend to live it with love and happiness. The hatred, pain, and struggles will come, but, as cliche as this is, there is always a light at the tunnel's end. My hope is still strong, and I intend to keep dancing and singing my way through life, like Trent would have done.
