I just returned from my daughters’ friend’s funeral. He died suddenly last week of a brain aneurism. I worried how the girls would handle Trent’s death, but I think they’re doing exactly what they need to do: crying alot, of course, but also visiting with other friends, sharing cell phone pictures of the boy (I think Trent is everyone’s background right now), and talking about “remember when.”
One of the other mothers said to me, “It says a lot about the boy, that everyone thought they were best friends.” And I think she’s right.Trent was a beautiful person, and his friends–all those “best friends”–have some wonderful memories of him.
This has all gotten me thinking of death and writing once again–the awareness of mortality in our stories. My father loaned me a book recently, about the history of Montgomery County, Texas. There are some detailed histories of families–personal information. And wonderful pictures, including a photo of my grandfather and his family, including his first wife, who died of the Spanish Flu. One of these days, I hope to set a story in that place and time.