"We are gathered here together to celebrate Trinity's life ... " said the old, soleml1~ man in the black suit. The girl he is referring to, Trinity was my best friend. We had known each other since we were both five years old. Now 1 am standing here at her funeral, listening to this preacher talk about celebrating her life. Personally 1 have to say that 1 do not feel much like celebrating; anyway, what does he know? What right does he have to talk about Trinity's life? We are both standing out in this cold rain and only one of us knows what she really went through. Only one of us knows what kind of person she really was and that person is me. I remember her, I remember...
My name is Anna Beth Stephens. Trinity and 1 met on our first day of kindergarten. She and 1 were complete opposites; she was a little chubby, with stunning brown eyes, and long black hair. 1 was and always have been the loudest of both of us, with blond hair, hazel eyes, and bean pole thin. The very first thing 1 did was introduce myself to everybody, and almost everybody was pretty nice. Trinity, however, gave me a simple, "Hi," and went on coloring. 1 thought that she was just a snob, but as time went on a friendship formed that would last forever.
We were friends all through elementary school and none of that changed when we got into middle school; in fact we became closer. We began doing all the things we thought teenagers did, you know talk about everything and everybody, except her home life. We never talked about where she lived. 1 had never met her parents, and 1 had no idea where she went when she got off the bus. On one of the many weekends that she was over when we were eleven, my curiosity peeked. 1 had to know. During the movie 1 came right out and asked, "Trinity," 1 said very casually. "Yeah A.B.?" she answered using my nickname. "What are your parents like? 1 mean can you talk to them like a friend or are they really uptight and stuff?" 1 asked. She gave me an apologetic smile and said, "I really do not want to talk about it okay?" 1 guess she could tell that 1 was hurt because soon after she said that she added, "1 just don't want to get into it right now, but it's not because 1 don't trust you or anything, okay." 1 shrugged and replied with a resentful "Okay." Our eighth grade year, 1 would find out everything.
It was the last week of our eighth grade year, right before fourth period and 1 had not seen Trinity all day. 1 waited until the bell rung, and 1 knew that 1 had to go to class. It was extremely odd for Trinity not to meet me before fourth period. My head told me that she was probably just sick, but my heart told me that something was wrong, 1 could feel it. The feeling of something being wrong bothered me so much that 1 knew that 1 had to move, go somewhere. 1 asked Mr. Frank if 1 could use the restroom and he said yes. That was when I found her.
I walked to the end bathroom, the closest to the door, hoping to stretch my legs. When I reached my destination, 1 swung open the door and found Trinity crying. Her nose and mouth were stained with blood and bruises flawed her once almost perfect skin, and her arm looked broken. I asked her the automatic question, "What happened?" She wandered over to me and almost collapsed in my arms saying, "Get me out of school."
I told Trinity to stay in the back stall and to lock the door behind me. I quickly walked, almost ran back to Mr. Frank's room and told him that 1 had gotten sick and wanted to call my mom. Without hesitation, he gave me my homework and a pass to use the phone. After I left his room I hoped that Trinity had not left. By the time I returned she had stopped crying, but she looked even worse. Her hair was in a tangled mess, her eyes were pink and puffy from crying, and the blood had leaked off her nose and mouth and stained her clothes. I told her that I had a pass to call my mom, but she begged and pleaded for me not to call her. When she looked at me, all banged up as she was, I knew that I couldn't call my mom. If I called her then what would happen to Trinity? So, I put her arm around my shoulder and we walked out of that school building together.
We went to a place where we used to playas kids. It was a simple old oak tree in the woods nestled by the good ole' Mississippi River, a very private and beautiful place. We were silent on the way there and for a moment once we got to our destination. I used the water to wash all the blood that 1 could get off of her face, and used the brush that 1 carried in my purse to straighten her hair. "Trinity, what happened, who did this to you?" I asked with concern. She sat still for what seemed like hours, staring at the river. Even though she was bruised and mangled, she still had the same sense of strength that she would have if she was perfectly fine.
"My parents did it." She said quietly. "Trinity," 1 started, "you told me that one day you would tell me about your parents, and 1 think that day is today." She nodded agreeably and then she began a conversation that 1 would never forget. "I was born in Georgia," she began, "my parents died when 1 was two years old and 1 hardly remember them." She looked at me almost waiting for a sign to continue, so 1 gave her a nod and she continued. "I was adopted by my foster parents and we moved here, to Mississippi when I was five." She gave a long sigh and said, "The abuse did not start until a few years ago and even then it was just a few bruises here and there. It was not until recently that it has gotten really bad." As she continued her horrific story, 1 felt awful for not noticing sooner. Then again, now that 1 think about it, 1 might have known it all along and just not wanted to admit it. 1 didn't want to accept the fact that my best friend in the whole world was being hurt on purpose.
When she had finished, I asked her a question that 1 already knew the answer to, "Why haven't you turned them in?" Then she gave the obvious answer, "Where would I go?" The answer was back into the foster system, which even I knew from stories that it could be worse than abuse. We were both silent for awhile when she asked a question that blew me out of the water. It was something that in over eight years of friendship had never come up. She asked, "Annabeth, do you believe in God' 1 sat there for a few moments processing the question and realized that 1 didn't have an answer.”I really never thought about it," 1 replied truthfully. She smiled and said, "I believe in Him. See the sunset, something that beautiful had to come from somewhere. I can not bring myself to believe that it is simply a natural event, and at home when 1 see the sun set or rise I know that God and my parents are watching over me. Don't you feel that immense peace that just flows at sunset?" 1 sat there dumfounded, 1 saw the sun set and rise everyday but 1 never felt peaceful about it. I quickly changed the subject before she realized that I did not answer her question. "Trinity, we need to get your arm looked at; it is probably broken; lets go to the clinic." She stood up and took one last look at the almost fully concealed sun and we walked to the clinic.
As I sat there in the waiting room, I was thinking about what Trinity had said about the sun. After she saw the sun setting she was no longer small, nut almost heavenly radiant. As I was thinking my thoughts resembled that of jealousy. While I had these awful jealous thoughts my mother walked in and immediately asked me what had happened. On the walk to the clinic, Trinity and I had come up with a story to tell everyone so that they would not get suspicious. It had worked on the doctor, but now was the big test, my mother. "Trinity was walking me home because I was not feeling good and on the way we stopped at our tree and we climbed it and she fell out." I lied to my mother. My mom obviously believed the story, but I was nervous that someone would find out.
Trinity's arm was broken in three different places. In order to avoid a phone call to her parents, Trinity told the doctor that her parents were out of town on business. Since my mom had connections at the clinic, he let my mom sign for Trinity's release even though she wasn't supposed to. We dropped her off at her house almost no questions asked and mom and I went home. Later that night I dropped what would turn out to be a bombshell at our house.
As my mom was peeling potatoes, I casually asked the question if we believed in God. After peeling three more potatoes fiercely and cutting herself twice she answered, "Honey, I will say this the nicest way possible, no! We do not believe in that whoop hollering shouting religion. I have nice things in my life but you know what I earned them, no one gave me anything. A couple of years back we went to church, and thought it would be good for us, the preacher said something about bathing us in lambs blood. I can wash myself just fine thank you! No, we do not believe in god, does that answer your question?" I answered with a swift yes and went up to my room.
Something told me inside that God was not who or what she said it was, but I let it drop. Trinity made him sound so wonderful, even after she had been at her lowest moment she shined. One thing was for sure, I knew what Trinity believed, and I knew what my mom believed. Now the question was what did I believe?
High school was a totally different experience for Trinity and me. Our freshman year was a big adjustment from middle school. We were both awkward teens starting in a brand new school, and the work was unbearably hard at some points. I think it was uncomfortable for my whole class, even Trinity for which school always came easy to. Then, however we got over the hill and entered our sophomore year. That year Trinity would teach me a lesson that I will carry my whole life.
It started out like any school year, but as it went on it seemed like everyone was finding their place in the teenage domain. The people in our class had divided themselves into official groups such as, the Goths, the jocks, the nerds, etc. I was personally caught between the quiet ones and the partiers. I was quiet most of the time in class, but at a party I broke out into a drinker. Thank God, Trinity would get me into church and saved later that year and get me out of that partying stage.
One day Trinity and I were hanging out in front of Spanish after gym, talking as usual when she had a glazed look in her eyes. I asked her what was wrong and before I could answer she was passed out on the floor. It scared me to death. She was only out a few seconds, and insisted that she was just hot from gym. I was worried. She finally told me that afternoon what was wrong.
"Annabeth, I know you want to know." I laughed as I was eating my hot dog at our tree. I was pretending that I had no idea what she was talking about. "Listen," I began, "it is nothing about your abusive parents coming back is it?" She shook her head; Trinity’s social worker had caught her parents in the act on a surprise visit and moved her to a different home. She loves it there and they are really nice. "No it has nothing to do with them but, I have to tell you before I lose my nerve." She gave a long pause and blurted it out, "I have leukemia." I was floored and shouted a simple, "What!"
We sat at our tree and talked about her disease for a long time and about how mad we were. It turns out she had known for about six months and was still fighting and made her peace. I think surprisingly we both had. Then she gave me a little life lesson speech, "You know the world is full of awful things like, war, murder, rape, abuse, and a lot of other things. But then again there are a lot of good things to like, love, blue skies, family, beauty, sunsets, and sunrises. I don't deny that everyday we are faced with bad things, but with God in your life how can you not look at the good things? Why live in a world of darkness instead of light?" Then she smiled and I smiled back and she asked me a question as we looked at the sunset. "Annabeth, do you believe in God?" I gave her a huge smile and said, "How could I not after knowing one of his angels?"
Trinity lost her battle to leukemia two months later and even though you may view her story as a tragic one, I now realize a few things. Without Trinity as my best friend, I don't know what I would have done. Trinity truly did save me in ways beyond my own imagination. She taught me that I would never be alone, and that God would always be with me. The sky has now cleared from gray to blue. Now as I drive home from the funeral into the sunset, I smile to myself Not only do I now know God, but I knew one of his angels.
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