April Gray turned grief over her daughter’s death into Trinity’s Way

When April Gray talks about Trinity’s Way, the nonprofit she founded in 2018, she doesn’t start with the organization’s mission or its events. She starts with the moment everything changed. Her daughter, Trinity, died in a car accident that February. Gray remembers the fog of those first weeks — the shock, the responsibility of caring for her two younger children, the impossible task of imagining a life without her oldest. “In that moment in time, I was only concerned about, you know, like, how do we go on with life?” she said. “What does life look like now?” The idea for a foundation came from Trinity’s godfather and a close family friend. They approached Gray within three weeks of the accident. Gray recalled, “They said, ‘We want to do something ... maybe start a foundation or a memorial in her honor. And of course, as her mother, we want you to be part of it.’ And I said, ‘I can’t right now.’” But the thought stayed with her. She kept returning to who Trinity was — her passion for the environment, her humanitarian streak, her instinct to bring people together. “I literally thought on it,” Gray said. “And I went back to them three days later and said, ‘OK, if we’re gonna do it, we’re gonna do it right.’” Gray had nonprofit experience from her time with the March of Dimes. She threw herself into the work: drafting bylaws, filing incorporation papers, forming a board. “It all happened very quickly,” she said. Trinity died on February 18. By April 6, Trinity’s Way was official. Trinity’s Way builds support through community events The first fundraiser came from another longtime friend, musician Doug Bush, who offered his annual BushFest as a benefit. What began as a gesture of support for the family became the organization’s launch point. “I said, ‘Hey, you know what? Let’s take this and make this Trinity’s Way,’” Gray said. Nearly nine years later, the organization has grown into a small but steady force for community connection — monthly cleanups, open mic nights, environmental projects, and a network of volunteers who span generations. For Gray, the most meaningful achievement isn’t a single event but the way people show up for one another. “It’s brought together people who maybe normally would have never had experiences with each other,” she said. “To me, that’s the crowning achievement. It speaks to who my daughter was. She was always the peacemaker who wanted people to just love each other and get along.” Still, Gray says people sometimes assume Trinity’s Way has more support than it does. “We can always use more,” she said. “People think, ‘They’ve got all this community support,’ and skip a cleanup or an open mic. But we need that continued support so what we’re doing remains sustainable.” The board has grown from three to five members, with room for a few more. “We always want it to be people who are familiar with our mission and who have an interest in doing good in the community,” Gray said. “That’s the baseline.” Trinity’s Way helps April Gray heal and build community But beneath the logistics and events lies something more intimate. Trinity’s Way has become part of Gray’s healing — an anchor in the long, uneven process of grief. “It’s been so vital in my healing process,” she said. “Taking something that was a personal tragedy ... it’s something I’m never going to get over. I live with that void. But this has helped me heal.” She describes grief not as something that fades but as something that walks beside you. “You learn to walk with it — or you learn to let it walk with you,” she said. “Doing Trinity’s Way has made the grief manageable.” Some of that healing comes from remembering Trinity’s own words. Gray recalled a conversation they had after a former student of hers died. The student’s mother struggled to move forward, and Trinity — still a teenager — couldn’t understand why. “She said, ‘I don’t understand why anybody would ever let that happen. Her son’s not ever gonna come back. How is her not living her life anymore doing anybody any good?’” That memory stayed with Gray. “I know how she felt about life and death,” she said. “She would never accept me wallowing in my own self‑pity.” Now, Gray hopes Trinity’s Way can be that same kind of refuge for others. “Everybody has hurt and pain and loss,” she said. “I want them to know Trinity’s Way is a safe place — whether it’s working side by side at a cleanup or expressing themselves at an open mic. A place to heal from whatever they’re carrying.” Nine years in, the grief remains. But so does the community. And in that space between loss and connection, Gray keeps building.