One thing that I refuse to lose through this crappy time are the wonderful friends that Trent had. It’s kinda weird how they are exactly the kind of friends that I would have hand picked myself, and maybe that’s testament to the fact that we really were so similar. Always the loudest of our groups, when he came along he well surpassed me… and I never hated letting him be the loudest, craziest or funniest. I actually liked taking a back seat for once. He and I would talk of our time at school, and we literally had mirror image childhoods. He adored his parents as I did mine, and we could never understand how anyone could survive without having them as a huge part of their lives. We absolutely never took advantage of them… we were just always grateful. Neither of us would give up our Christmas days with our families, nor alternate….. so for years we drove from lunch in Ascot Vale with my fam to dinner in Foster, South Gippsland with his.. and then a further forty minutes drive around midnight back to Port Albert to rest for a few Days with Trent’s Dad in his childhood home. We adored the whole day, from watching the girls receive their Santa pressies, to seeing the cousins etc that we didn’t have the chance to see through the year. He grew up in Port Albert (population 400), going to school in Yarram (population 2,000.) I used to look out of the beautiful bedroom window of his 100 years plus family home, and wonder how this big burly bloke grew up in this B&B worthy double story converted bakery overlooking the Port. With his Dad a non-struggling artist (he is the most dedicated artist I know…. no he’s not mental, and yes he has manged to support himself!) The old oven room out the back is his studio, and the old shop out the front is his gallery….. in between is the most divine of houses, complete with original furniture of it’s time, and too many wonderful things to mention. This was the home of Warren and Sue (Trent’s Mum) but I think they separated somewhere around Trents 21st, and so it remains with Warren now. I’ll always love going down there to visit. I may have grown up in the leafy streets of Ascot Vale in the city, but we sure did have parents with similar morals. I know this because their morals were ingrained in us, and we never disagreed on what we wanted for the kids, or how they should be raised. Sure, we fought a lot over Trent being tough, and me not being consistent…. but what couple ever gets on the same page here! We spent six months doing couples counselling about four years ago to get on the same page with the girls, and it really did change our lives. It made us a stronger unit than we already were, and I really think we were unbreakable as it was. Turns out nothing is… so don’t be complacent with your lives.
Back to the mates that hauled me through….. half are from his childhood, some his teenage-hood and early twenties, one from Uni and everyone else he just collected over the years with his amazing ability to draw people close to him. People adored him…. I know this from them telling me repeatedly how much they loved him, and how much his life changed when we met. He would stand on tables pissed and profess his love for the girls and I, even when I wasn’t drinking by his side. He made a beautiful friend at a job a couple of years ago who was killed by a car walking along the road late one night….. he cried for days on end for this mans wife and young child, and it moved him so much he started telling us all hourly what we meant to him. He was just this kind of guy. He told his mates even sobre what they meant to him. That man was made of gooey love, and it only got gooeyer the more he drank. Being renound for telling people how much he loved them, (and of course breaking their ribs with his bear cuddles) I can easily see why three hundred odd people turn up to his memorial and looked so utterly lost and bewildered as to why the world would choose to take such a warm and wonderful character away from us. I’ll certainly never understand it….. everything happens for a reason? I think not.