Tristan knew full well he had so much to be grateful for. And he was. Yet it didn't stop the holes of darkness from encroaching. He'd come unglued the day his mother, Kelly Jean, had died suddenly in October 1994, when he was twelve. 

He adored his father, Squint, who lavished every demonstration of love Tris craved. This helped tremendously, but intensified dependence on yet more of the same. Tris resented both the craving and dependence it created. Added on, was the fact of Squint's show business success shadowing over him. It made his own identity elusive.

Two brothers and two sisters competing for Squint's time and attention didn't make things easier, either. He loved and valued them, but it didn't lessen the complications.

It was hard not to fall into the familiar emotional bog. He'd hoped starting a small ministry would brighten some answers. It had. Along with bringing a flood of new touchy issues.