As I left the driveway to make the 11-hour drive, I was already tired. I’ve often said trauma attaches to us because we go into the curve sideways. Our path that day was already off, and trauma found a place to land. I have been making this trip to my mom’s once a month for over a year now. It was part of my early retirement to learn the family business and to help my mom as she says she is not getting older, just wiser. As I made the trip, I reminded myself that doing the right thing is not always easy. I also reminded myself that the best way to teach our children something is to show them.

After 11 hours I was greeted by my mom and a warm meal. I doubt the food was even close to being digested before I was fast asleep. The next morning, I ran the path through the woods on our family farm reliving every childhood memory possible. The memories were vivid.

Mom asked if I would take her to the high school graduation of her Goddaughter. I told her I would, but to be honest I did not want to go. I had not been to a high school graduation since my own in 1987.

We drove the river bottom roads to get to the high school. Mom asked when I was last on these roads, and I told her it had to be high school. I remembered how bad the bugs were at night on my Harley. The sun was coming down, and for a few moments, I was back on that bike. I could hear the straight pipe exhaust and feel the wind and the bugs hitting me. Like my run through the woods, the memories were vivid. Mom talked about years gone by and I tried to listen, but I was on that Harley riding into the future.

As we walked to the auditorium, I slowed my pace down so mom’s plastic replaced knee could keep up. I’m pretty sure many years ago she slowed her pace down so I could keep up. We sat down next to the Goddaughter’s family. I knew them at one time but that was a while ago. I scanned the large crowd to see if I knew anyone but the odds of that were slim. For thirty years it was all about scanning the crowd, being overly aware of your surroundings, and seeking all exit points. Even though that life is behind me, I doubt my brain will reprogram in the years I have left.

We were sitting directly across from the graduation stage. I once wrote that people live their lives in three different positions. Some sit as close as they can to the stage of life. Others sit in the middle, and then we have the ones who sit in the back. Clearly, I have chosen to sit as close as I can to the stage of life. I do not feel one is better than the other; it’s just simply a choice. Tonight, I would have chosen to sit in the back, but that decision was already made before we got here.

Several students and adults spoke and then the diplomas began. My mind drifted back to 1987. Unfortunately, I was not on a Harley racing the wind down a river bottom road. I was a student in a blue graduation gown waiting on a piece of paper. To me the paper represented freedom to be who I wanted to be. Under that gown was a Harley T-shirt, blue jeans, and boots. Under that was a confused kid. As the names were called out and people applauded, I was still in 1987. Over the years I’ve regretted the kid I was back then. Not a bad kid but a kid who could have been a better person. I think much of my adult life has been spent trying to make up for those years.

I was stuck in 1987 in my own world and oblivious to this graduation and my mom sitting next to me. All of a sudden, the crowd stood up and applauded. I stood up because I was the only one sitting down. A woman walked up to the graduation stage, but not dressed in a gown. She received a diploma, held it in the air, and with tears in her eyes, smiled. The crowd continued to stand and applaud for a good 45 seconds. The energy in the air was overwhelming. Only a few times in my life have I felt that. I hated for it to end. I leaned over to mom and said, “What the hell was that?” My mom said “that was the mom of the daughter who should have graduated but was killed in an accident. Her name was Lilly. They have been talking about her the whole graduation.”

My mom has a saying, “As bad as an egg sucking dog.” That’s a dog that gets in the chicken house eats the eggs and comes out with its head hanging low because it got caught. That’s how I felt missing the words about Lilly but cashing in on her 45 seconds of energy. The crowd was united. Something we do not see much of anymore.

Two days later, I’m sitting in church with my mom. When I come to visit, I take her to church and then to this little diner for an omelet and a decaf coffee with cream. As always when I sit in church my mind, wanders from that church. My church is the trees where I spend my time with God. The church was packed but mom and I had some empty spots in our pew. Once again, I scanned the crowd to see if I knew anyone. I wondered what my family was doing back home, and then it hit me. As if Lilly was sitting down next to me I was hit with the 45 seconds of energy. My head started to spin and spin, and I began to write. I don’t always want to write and some days I’d like to think about nothing. Today was one of those days but it was like Lilly insisted I share her 45 seconds with you.

The 11-hour drive home was spent writing this to you. No matter how many different songs I played on the radio my mind kept going back to Lilly and her 45 seconds. My bride and our boys helped me unpack the truck. The not so puppy slowed down long enough to give me one kiss. As the night settled upon us, I told my bride I was headed out to work for a bit. She said, “Ok and be careful”. After 27 years she gets the man, I’m trying to be.

I’m standing in a freshly planted cotton field writing these words to you. The stars are bright tonight. My body is tired from the drive, but my soul is energized. Energized from a girl named Lilly who gave us her 45 seconds. It saddens me that we as a world, as a nation, and as a society are so divided. There has always been division but these days it seems worse. For 45 seconds the life of a young girl brought a crowd together. Politics, economics, race, gender, religion did not matter. A young girl’s life was acknowledged by a crowd of people united.

I recently wrote that I seek isolation. A friend informed me that what I seek is solitude and there is a difference. Here under these stars, my boots are sunk in this freshly planted field. I have solitude and I am united with the earth. All across this world are the lives of people like Lilly. Makeshift memorials on the sides of roads, streets, and any place imaginable. Their death unites us at the time but seldom months later, and with complete strangers. Lilly somehow did the impossible.

I stand here and reflect on my 1987 graduation. Even though I have regrets, I’ve come to realize whoever I was back then made me the man I am today. At 18 I was uncertain of the man I wanted to be when I grew up. At 54, I’m still uncertain of the man I want to be when I grow up, but the difference is now I know the man I do not want to be. Lilly did not cross that stage in body, but she did in spirit. I did not cross that stage either, but an older version of me did in spirit.

Lilly gave me a gift and I think a push to share her 45 seconds with you. Now it’s your turn to share it with someone else. As I walk this field with the stars as my light seeking solitude not isolation, I’m sure there is a star above named Lilly guiding me to the stage of life. – Josey

For more of Josey’s stories with Dr Jeffrey Mitchell, got to https://crucialmoments.org/

To read more of Josey’s blog stories, https://theroadmapcompany.com/blog/

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