In April of 2003, a little over two months after Laura died, we held a celebration of Laura’s life in Oxford at Old Taylor Grocery – Laura’s favorite restaurant. The restaurant only held 125 people and it was a major challenge determining who not to invite since so many people wanted to come. We set up a makeshift stage and anyone who had a funny story to tell about Laura was invited to speak. I think that I laughed and cried the hardest I ever have in the two hours that Laura’s friends told stories about her. Sir Steve (Steve Wilson, one of the six Dellamata Knights) and Lady Claire were there.
As everyone knows, losing a child changes you significantly. Sometimes for the better; sometimes not. One of the things it did for me is take me out of the rat race; it changed my perspective on what is truly important, which mainly has to do with relationships. And what is not important, pretty much everything else.
On Jan 26, 2006, almost three years after Laura’s wreck, Van, the Wilson’s oldest son, was killed in a car wreck. I tried to be to Sir Steve what Sir Princeton had been to me.
What a funeral service with all the Navy Seals there in their dress uniforms! That night, I joined the Seals and other close friends at the Magnolia Woods Clubhouse. Those guys told some of the funniest stories about Van that I ever heard. Steve and I both laughed and cried our eyes out.
When I was in my early 20’s, I thought that my raison d’etre was to preserve and expand Valhalla, (the 900 acre place where I grew up outside Woodville, MS). Valhalla was so beautiful and so important to my parents. But over the years, that mission became less and less important to me. My soul does not reside there. Whose does is Sir Steve’s. He loves Valhalla more than I ever did. He has spent hundreds of hours walking Thompson’s Creek on the back of Valhalla and nurturing his soul there. Valhalla was also very special to Laura. In one of her journals, she said that her ideal date would be to spend an evening with her man by a campfire at Valhalla.
Sir Steve is an artist. He sees and feels things at a depth that I cannot reach. But he inspires me to reach as deeply as I can. Several years ago, Sir Steve collected rocks, minerals and glass that he had found along the creek at Valhalla and crafted them into a small monument and dedicated it to Van and Laura.
This is an excerpt from one of Laura’s journals that she wrote when she was 16.
Laura’s statement that it has to happen because she already had it perfectly envisioned in her mind and Sir Steve’s totem-esk artwork inspired me to write the following poem:
The Lost Tribes of Valhalla
They were the elders, the next to come of age.
From different tribes yet many ways the same.
Stunning in their beauty, strong in frame.
Intent on serving others more than self.
Secrets shared on how to live a life:
By purpose with a passion and delight.
Those who came to flow within their orb
Soon sensed that there was something more in store
Than name and face and place from whence one came,
Or just another acquaintance along the way.
Here was heart, here was depth, and here was soul.
Here was one who sincerely cared to know
What really mattered to another deep inside.
Here was one who truly could be a friend.
And who were they to my Friend and me?
A daughter and a son that’s true enough;
But so much more that words cannot describe
The treasures that they poured into our hearts.
To be to say that child you see is mine
Misted up our eyes and swelled our chests.
It was more than just themselves that brought us joy;
It was also those they’d bring into this world.
One tot close on the heels of Papa Steve
Another by his side with Daddy Dave.
We saw them with the eyes within our minds;
We believed they were the promises of God.
Children never seen, nor touched nor held,
Whose imprints never creased into the sand,
Whose laughter never burst into a room,
Whose fingers never held another hand,
Can such as these by name be children called?
Can such as these really be a child at all?
What does it mean to truly be alive?
Must space be filled or shadows outward cast?
Must senses always touch, perceive, and smell?
Must body always wrap around the soul?
Is true life something more than flesh and blood?
Not conceived within a womb but in a heart,
Not held within our hands but with our hopes,
Not seen with normal eyes but with our dreams,
Not measured by a weight nor by a width,
But by the passion that our visions stir inside?
If so, then more than two were swept away,
So many more that would have come behind
And made the world so much a better place,
And given Friend and me a legacy.
Two tribes we thought one day would surely be
And mingle by Valhalla’s water edge
Remains within this weathered totem cast
Of minerals locked in lead along with glass.
These dear friendships and powerful experiences have changed me in many ways. No doubt they have helped me become a better man. I realize that while wealth and financial success are important to our quality of life, they are not nearly as important as relationships and soulmates. Alexander Solzhenitsyn said it best:
“The meaning of earthly existence is not, as we have grown used to thinking, in prospering. It is in the development of the soul.” Sir Stephen is my soul mate and the one who has helped me more than anyone other than Coco to develop my soul.