Shine On — For Trenton

Trenton,

There are people who pass through your life,

and then there are people who mark it permanently.

You marked mine.

You were extraordinarily intelligent —

the kind of intelligence that didn’t need to announce itself.

It simply existed, steady and undeniable.

Your mind could take something complicated,

something that looked impossible,

and bend it into reality.

You never gave up.

Not on an idea.

Not on a challenge.

Not on the people you loved.

And when you picked up a guitar,

it was as if the world paused to listen.

You didn’t just play — you created.

You transformed feeling into sound.

There was something rare in that gift,

something undeniably you.

You were spontaneous.

Unpredictable.

Sometimes stubborn beyond reason.

But you were also resilient, confident,

secure in who you were.

You never pretended to be anything else.

You stayed real — unapologetically yourself —

and I admired that more than I ever said.

You loved your family.

You loved fiercely.

And if someone needed help,

you were there.

Not for recognition.

Not for praise.

But because that was your nature.

For me, you were safety.

You were the voice that steadied mine.

You never led me down the wrong path.

You gave me advice that was honest, thoughtful, and protective.

You wanted better for me.

You expected better from me.

And you taught me more than you probably knew.

When I was stressed, overwhelmed, or upset,

you would interrupt the heaviness with humor.

You deflected darkness with laughter.

You could shift the entire atmosphere of a room

with one comment, one joke, one look.

You made breathing easier.

You were — and still are —

extraordinary.

Extraordinarily unique.

There will never be another you.

Three years later,

I still feel the absence.

I still feel the space where you should be.

Because if you were here,

I know I wouldn’t feel this lonely.

Every time I hear “Wish You Were Here”

or “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” by Pink Floyd,

it’s immediate.

It’s you.

The opening notes don’t just play — they ache.

They carry your memory in every chord.

Sometimes I sit with those songs

and let them say what I can’t.

That I wish you were here.

That I hope you’re still shining somewhere

with that brilliant, unstoppable mind

and that guitar in your hands.

You were my best friend.

Not perfectly.

Not quietly.

But fully.

And I miss you in ways words will never quite hold.

Shine on, Trent

You always did.

Forever missed. 

For Trenton

You walked among us, but your cadence wasn’t ours

We spoke, but the language left you empty

Not everyone saw your depth

Wanted nothing from you but banalities and correctness

An impossible task for your true self

So much creative fire in you, forever unappreciated by most

You raged at insincerity, scoffed at foolish propriety

Shielded your heart from the emptiness of convention

You are safe with the angels, Trent

Free and at peace, at last