The remarkable epic of Trent Thomason...
... it will be difficult to find a place to end. Maybe it would be more accurate to say the epic, classic or larger- than- life story of Trent Thomason does not have an end.
The details surrounding this story beginning on July 5 of this year and culminating with a funeral on Sunday, July 9, are those about which one could write or speak for a long, long time.
Sentiments in the opening paragraph quickly indicated the Trent Thomason story is one without an end. So to say the story culminated or came to an end on last Sunday is a misnomer to the greatest degree.
The details of Trent’s battle with the terrible disease of cancer have been at the forefront in the concern of his family and multitude of friends for such a long period. It was Trent’s Aunt Donna Fuquea Couch’s regular postings on Facebook to which I turned for accurate and detailed reports of Trent’s condition during those last 50 days of his life at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta. His condition varied during those days. I always expected to read that Trent was well enough to come home. Alas, that word never came and my heart and hearts of a multitude of family and friends were broken when the report of his passing on July 5 finally brought those daily reports to an end.
The life and death of each individual is distinctive, private and special in nature and relationships. I borrow Yogi Berra’s statement when he said, “You can observe a lot just by watching.” Much of this column will involve with what I observed during this past weekend. Further, we will examine some conclusions and contributions of great testimony to Trent’s life.
A family I knew before I ever met or saw them
Trent was a descendant of the Thomason family. It was the Raymond and Floy Fuquea family through which I became acquainted with Trent. I knew them before I ever met one of them. That fact in itself brings up an interesting question of how that could be. Let me tell you: As a little fellow I would hear my Grandparent Foster’s speak of the Fuquea’s. They were all from up in the Red Bud community. As years passed, I came to observe with interest a warm and loving relationship between my Grandmother ( Nesbitt) Foster and her friend Floy Fuquea. The Fuquea family was never far from Mama Foster’s thoughts and life until the day she died.
The Fuquea family simply evolved into my knowledge and life. The children in that family became wonderful friends. One son, the late Kenneth Fuquea, lived in the house across Boulevard Heights from on Facebook, one could conclude with many observations. The first conclusion was that I was watching the picture of a happy young man. Not only was he happy, every depiction indicated he was implementing joy and happiness into the lives of those of his family and acquaintances. I measure the young man by his dedication to and love for his parents, life, son, family and friends.
Another measure is the multitude ( and I do not use the word lightly in this case) of people who came to the visitation on Friday or Saturday night. It was an amazing sight to behold. The question of why two visitation nights embraced in some minds was quickly eliminated after observing those two nights. Add to that the throng attending the funeral and graveside services on Sunday. The sheer number of people taking time from their own lives to pay respect to Trent’s family and honor his part in their own lives was a matter of great significance. It is often said that actions speak louder than words. That is true. In this case, these actions I have mentioned combined with great words of testimony, both spoken and written, lift the measurement to an even greater stature.
What were these testimony?
It is impossible to relate the testimony presented. The speaker at the beginning was Trent’s friend from their childhood, Wayne Fuller. His remarks were warm and sincere. The preachers and those who sang presented words to elevate the appreciation and measure of Trent Thomason. A lady met me as I walked toward the graveside and said, “I told my husband ‘ He will write about all this.’” I had just expressed my intent to Diane that this week’s column would be about Trent and his family.
I told Donna when I called her on Tuesday that I had spent all morning reading every word I could find on Facebook concerning Trent. My heart was warmed and lifted by the wonderful and warm sentiments expressed. I encourage all of you to find and read these uplifting words.
Heath’s brother’s wife, Lori (Harris) Thomason presented such a warm and appreciative message on Facebook.
To all those hearts touched may it be said that God loved Trent and God loves us all. To Jessica and Rob, we all love you. Closing Remarks Did I say I would not find a place to end this column? I should write 800 or less words. I have just written over 1250 and I could write many, many more.
I will close by saying life goes on and what life needs is more Trent Thomason’s. words of