I met her one evening when I stopped by my sister's house. She was a friend of one of my sister's daughters, a quiet, inconspicuous young lady. My niece said "This is Trina"
"Trina?" I repeated, making sure I heard correctly.
"Yes, but sometimes people call me Kat. My full name is Katrina".
She seemed like a typical fun-loving 12-year-old, but also mature and reserved. She had an engaging personality, and carried on a good conversation. Her mom rode a motorcycle with a group of friends, and had heart trouble, for which she had undergone surgery. Her dad's whereabouts were unknown.
Over the last couple of months, I had been introducing one of my nephews to scuba diving, and we were planning a weekend dive trip to Lake Tahoe, on the California-Nevada border. My niece wanted to come with us, and we agreed. She wasn't into diving or even much into swimming, but she had a sense of adventure. My niece asked if Trina could come along. I was agreeable, but doubted that her mom would agree. If I had had a 12-year-old daughter, I certainly would not have allowed her to accompany a single 23-year-old man that I didn't know. But, her mom signed a permission slip, and Trina went with us.
The trip was great. We had arranged for a cabin at a Christian retreat center that my sister knew, in the woods at the north end of the lake. During the day my nephew and I practiced the basics of diving, while the girls sat on the shore watching and talking. In the evenings, we piled into a cabin, I cooked simple dinners, made a fire in the cabin's iron stove, and we all slept very soundly. Her initial formality faded away, and Trina blended in completely, like a member of the family.
After the trip, life got back to normal, and time passed too quickly. A year or two later, I saw Trina at the local livestock fair. She tearfully told me how her mom had died of a heart attack, and she was living with some relative. I could tell that she needed stability and comfort, but there didn't seem to be anything I could do.
I was trying to handle a demanding job, finish college, and then move to another part of the state. My own life wasn't that stable either.
A couple of years after that, I learned from my niece that Trina had died. She had gotten in with a bad group of druggies, and had overdosed. Rumors said she had been intentionally killed by another group member.
A tragic waste of a good life. She had grace and manners beyond her upbringing.
She could have been someone great.
Rest in peace, Trina...
"Trina?" I repeated, making sure I heard correctly.
"Yes, but sometimes people call me Kat. My full name is Katrina".
She seemed like a typical fun-loving 12-year-old, but also mature and reserved. She had an engaging personality, and carried on a good conversation. Her mom rode a motorcycle with a group of friends, and had heart trouble, for which she had undergone surgery. Her dad's whereabouts were unknown.
Over the last couple of months, I had been introducing one of my nephews to scuba diving, and we were planning a weekend dive trip to Lake Tahoe, on the California-Nevada border. My niece wanted to come with us, and we agreed. She wasn't into diving or even much into swimming, but she had a sense of adventure. My niece asked if Trina could come along. I was agreeable, but doubted that her mom would agree. If I had had a 12-year-old daughter, I certainly would not have allowed her to accompany a single 23-year-old man that I didn't know. But, her mom signed a permission slip, and Trina went with us.
The trip was great. We had arranged for a cabin at a Christian retreat center that my sister knew, in the woods at the north end of the lake. During the day my nephew and I practiced the basics of diving, while the girls sat on the shore watching and talking. In the evenings, we piled into a cabin, I cooked simple dinners, made a fire in the cabin's iron stove, and we all slept very soundly. Her initial formality faded away, and Trina blended in completely, like a member of the family.
After the trip, life got back to normal, and time passed too quickly. A year or two later, I saw Trina at the local livestock fair. She tearfully told me how her mom had died of a heart attack, and she was living with some relative. I could tell that she needed stability and comfort, but there didn't seem to be anything I could do.
I was trying to handle a demanding job, finish college, and then move to another part of the state. My own life wasn't that stable either.
A couple of years after that, I learned from my niece that Trina had died. She had gotten in with a bad group of druggies, and had overdosed. Rumors said she had been intentionally killed by another group member.
A tragic waste of a good life. She had grace and manners beyond her upbringing.
She could have been someone great.
Rest in peace, Trina...
