(Above, Logan Killingsworth and Larry Killingworth flank the winners of the top division at the 14th Annual Trent Killingsworth Memorial Trap Shoot)

When you drill down seeking the oldest memories in your head, what bubbles up?

Two for me come to mind as the first memories I have.

Both from when I was 4-years old, the first being my mama taking me out of the Pre-K class at the Methodist church and enrolling me in the school I’d attend for the next 14 years.

The other is from around the same time, and it involves going swimming at Butch and Sharon Tarver’s house.

There was a pile of kids in the pool that day. One of them was a boy my age. Like me, his daddy was a logger and like me, his mama created a home filled with lots of love and lots of good things to eat.

Our parents were friends and our own friendship naturally formed, especially when he joined my class in K-5.

His name was Trent Killingsworth.

That grin. That laugh. That energy.

If you knew Trent, then you can see and hear him in your mind right now, even though it’s been 22 years since we lost Killer.

He was just a month into his 22nd year of life when this beloved son, brother, nephew, grandson, cousin, and friend left us.

How can words adequately capture that one friend who made everything fun, the one most filled with personality.

It was like the Who’s Who category for “Most Outgoing” had been created just for him.

The world has been a less bright place for all of us that loved him since January 28, 2004.

The grief that piled upon us in those early days, months, and years was unbearable at times.

Imagine grief as building materials.

The pain like mortar, holding together bricks made of sadness.

We who loved Trent Killingsworth could have built a citadel, a strong fortress, of our mourning.

Something did get built out of this hurt, but it’s much more beautiful than a palace of pain.

His cousins banded together with their parents and extended families to create something to honor Trent and his life.

You see, Trent was the most cousin rich man I’ve ever met.

I’m not going to list them all out here, for I wouldn’t dare dream of accidentally omitting a single name.

Some of them were a little older than him and others were right around his own age. They spent countless hours together while growing up. Going to family reunions and hosting holidays in houses that could barely contain the sprawl of the family as it continued to grow.

Those cousins, who could each tell you about a special bond they shared with Trent, came together with his daddy Larry, his mama Sheila, and his little brother Logan to create an event held every August, Trapping for Trent, a memorial trap shoot in his name.

Last Saturday, August 16, was the 14th Annual Trapping for Trent.

I can’t think of a more beautiful way to remember and honor him.

His cousins are there each year, cooking hamburgers, tracking scores of shooters, selling t-shirts, and raising money for a scholarship that bears his name at Copiah-Lincoln Community College, just up the road from his boyhood home.

Being surrounded by the people who he loved the most, Trent feels so close on those Saturdays in August.

He had a great passion for bringing people together.

Our senior year at Southern Miss, the University of Nebraska made a visit to Hattiesburg for a much-anticipated football game.

Trent and I worked together at a lumberyard and were roommates with Will Pepper at that time.

I’ll never forget the money that Trent spent on preparing for the tailgate he put on ahead of the Nebraska game.

He bought a new tent, new table, new grill, and enough food to feed every person we knew in the Hub City. He was only 21 years old.

Whatever money he’d made in the last month at the lumberyard was gone, spent on making sure his friends had the best time. He went around asking everyone in the tent how they liked the beer-can chicken he’d prepared, because he knew it was very good.

What better way to celebrate the life of someone so magnetic, by having an event like the trap shoot, that brings everyone together in his name.

It’s a soul-lifting type of day, to tell stories and rehash old memories of someone you loved with the people who loved him most.

It’s also challenging, to see others take the worst thing that could happen to a family, and to make something good out of it.

The story of Trent’s life is one filled with love and family and all the things that brought joy to those of us lucky to know him.

The story of his legacy does the exact same thing.

That’s the story of my oldest friend.

Every Tuesday, Cliff Furr tells a story that’s focused on something positive, outside of athletics. Have a tip on a good story, email him at cliff@yallsportsms.com.