“When my brother was born, all three generations before him were still alive. They already had their nicknames—Rex, Tom, and Tommy. That made him T. Rex. When he was two months old, our grandmother used his tiny hand to sign a card. I signed it next, and when I noticed the period missing after the “T,” I laughed and said, “Hey, that spells Trex!” And it stuck.”

As a child, Trex was the human version of a sour patch kid. He had big blue eyes, a head full of white ringlets, and he gave the best hugs. My mom loves to tell the story of him painting himself and a puppy hunter green to match the shed. I like to tell the one where he smacked me in the head with a pair of clippers.

Trex never cared much for belongings. He owned very little, and he gave freely—often to a fault. He’d literally give you the dirty, holey shirt off his back if you needed it. And never had much money, but he’d for sure give you his last dollar. People, not things, were what mattered to him.

Our uncle opened a recycling center in 1989, the year Trex was born. Trex grew up rolling around in recyclables and went back after he got out of the military —not because he didn’t have other options, but because he wanted to make sure our uncle always had someone to depend on. That was just who he was.

Even after moving away to start his own family, he’d make the hour and a half trip home at the drop of a hat, just because Mom needed the dog food brought in from the car.

He loved being an uncle, and my kids adored him. Whether it was video games or tickle fights, he always made time for them.

And being a daddy—well, that was his greatest joy. All he ever wanted was a little girl. When his wife became pregnant, he never even considered the idea it could be a boy. He just knew. And he was right. He got his little Tayla Rae.

Trex struggled with the weight of expectations and societal norms. July 21, 2021 was the day his life ended and ours was forever changed. He was so consumed by pain and suffering that he couldn’t see a way to live any longer and be what he thought everyone needed. In reality, what we needed most was simply him.

We are honored to walk in memory of Thomas Rex Pickens IV — “Trex”.