Clay Millican is a glass “half-full.”

When the sun rises he is a great-day-kind-of-guy. He's the kind of guy who could listen to Lovely Day, an upbeat song by Bill Withers, all day and never get tired.

Millican is also the guy who others, when having a tough day, turn to for words of encouragement.

On the Saturday morning of the NHRA Carolina Nationals, Millican made a direct, to-the-point statement as he sat down for a very tough interview.

"Let's do this ... it's the only interview like this I plan on doing," Millican said, with a hint of emotion coming from his voice.

Millican had just finished his participation in the Hot Rods & Hot Cakes Fundraiser with Doug Herbert's B.R.A.K.E.S. Foundation, a driver safety initiative aimed at encouraging teenage drivers to be responsible and keep everyone safe.

Millican knows all too well the pain Herbert has endured for the last seven years since losing sons Jon and James in a 2008 automobile accident. A week before this season's NHRA Nationals in Brainerd, Minn., Millican and wife Donna lost their youngest son, Dalton, a 22-year old motocross and monster truck racing sensation, in a motorcycle accident. In addition to his parents, Dalton also left behind his older brother Cale, who admired his sibling.

Millican manages a smile while focusing on the irony of it all. Herbert, once his fiercest rival (and at one time sparring partner), has been his strongest ally in the midst of personal tragedy.

"You know, it’s amazing for as fierce of rivals that Doug and I were and then the tragedy that happened to him, I immediately called and reached out to him," Millican said. "I still had that competitor in me but I couldn’t imagine having had what happened to him. It’s crazy kind of how close now our families are."

It didn't take long before Millican pointed out the similarities. Herbert had two boys (and a daughter), and Millican did as well. Each had a son who raced dirt bikes.

And now, Millican adds, they know the grief of a losing a child.

In some way, Millican wonders if burying the hatchet with Herbert and becoming close friends was God's way of preparing him for the tragedy to come. While the human side of Millican wants to second guess the situation of death turning into a positive, he said his faith in God tells him the divine plan will always work perfectly.

"We have no way of knowing God’s plan, but I don’t question it; I believe in it," said Millican. "Barry Dodson, Rusty Wallace’s crew chief, told me something the other day that made sense, and he’s lost two children as well.

"Barry said, 'God takes the good ones because they’ve done all the work that needed to be done here, and we’re still here because we still have work to do here before He needs us."

Millican paused in the emotion of the interview, gathered his thoughts and pressed on.

"Do I miss the little boy, absolutely, but he is happy where he’s at, and I’m happy for him," Millican said. "I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why but I know that it was supposed to happen. I see signs every day that tell me there is somebody watching over me, and I believe.  That’s all I know to say, I believe."  

The friendship with Herbert is what Millican describes as "Heaven-sent."

"He’s become someone that I can call that’s been through it," said Millican.  

Millican says the well wishes and sympathy from friends and family has been the salve to ease his and Donna's broken hearts. He remembers what it was like to be on the other side of the painful street when he, too, made every effort to comfort Herbert.

Now Millican realizes that he had no idea of how to measure the magnitude of Herbert's pain as much as he does today.

"No, nope, no way," said Millican. "I don’t think that anybody that hasn’t lost a child can understand what it’s like.  Nobody understands it unless they’ve lost a child.  You hear people say all the time that parents aren’t supposed to bury their children but it happens and there is no describing it.  I have had a lot of people that have been awesome and coming to tell me that they’re praying for me, I very much appreciate it, but I don’t think that anyone really understands unless they’ve been through it.  

"I’m living through it right now, and it’s every day.  Every day it’s tough but its good stuff too."

Millican believes the most profound advice he's received came via Herbert, who was given the message by NASCAR legend Bobby Allison, who too lost a son when Davey Allison was killed in a helicopter accident.

"You’ve got millions of great memories and only one bad one, so whenever it hits you, dig deep for the good memories," Millican conveyed.

Millican said he and Dalton were more than father and son; they were friends.

"And I mean good friends," Millican said without hesitation. "He had gotten to the age to where we just hung out.  He and I traveled the country, whether it was drag racing or motocross racing.  He and his mama really traveled this country to do motocross because I was gone doing my own racing.  For me it wasn’t just the loss of my son; it was the loss of my best friend, and nothing is easy about it."

Millican's bid to re-engage in life took less than a week, as he raced in Brainerd, choosing to limit his conversation on the topic. He didn't hesitate to make one point known; he was there in the car because it was what Dalton would have demanded he do.

And there have been moments where he believed his son was looking down. Case in point, Millican was a longshot for the lottery drawing for the Traxxas Top Fuel Shootout and more recently, No. 1 qualifier in Charlotte.

"A lot of people ask me how I could go out and race just a few days afterwards but after we had Dalton’s celebration of life, I know my little boy would be mad at me if I didn’t go," Millican said. "He knows that this is what we do, and this is what we love to do, and this is what he loved to do."

In some ways, Millican admits he's able to carry on because he's still in somewhat of a state of shock.

"I don’t know if it will ever fully sink in; I’m not sure," Millican admitted.

Millican believes reality will come crashing down on him and Donna, likely during the off-season. He said the two of them, luckily, have their emotional moments at different times.

"I dread any down time," said Millican. "Keeping busy right now is the best thing for me, Donna and Cale.  It’s when you sit still that stuff hits you.  It’s weird, it’ll just hit you out of nowhere.  I’ve been doing anything and everything just to stay on the go so I won’t have time to sit there and reflect. Busy is good.  Busy is good.  

"It’s actually probably a little bit harder on her being at the races because I’m able to go sign autographs, go meet someone and do whatever I can to stay busy."   

Millican wants to point out, as invaluable as Herbert has been, wife Donna has been his rock. The couple has been together for 34 years, having started dating in 1981 when they were freshmen in high school.

Saturday, they both sported t-shirts emblazoned with Milli-Can on the front, and Pow Pow on the back, a design actually drawn up by Dalton and shared with his Motocross friends. There were 450 of them printed, and within days were all sold with 100-percent of the proceeds split between Racers for Christ and animal rescue group Paws & Claws.

Millican smiled at the end of the interview, responding to one last question. How does one smile through the tears?

"You have to," Millican said. "I know Dalton is happy, and I know that he wants me, Donna and Cale to be happy.  have no question that he’s here with us, I really believe that 100-percent.  He wouldn’t want me to be sad, he wouldn’t want Donna to be sad.  Do we get sad and cry every day?  Sometimes, absolutely we do.  We’re really sad for us and not sad for him if that makes any sense to anybody. Some people will understand it and some won’t.  We’re sad because he’s not with us, but the truth is that he’s happy, and he is here with us, all around us.  He’s just not physically here in his body anymore."   

"I can say this, that little dude from the time he was born lived life every day."

Millican was all smiles momentarily when he explained the final evidence of his statement. He used the No. 25, and Dalton's love for the number to illustrate how he gained confirmation.

Twenty-five was Dalton's motocross number, drawn from Millican's No. 255 on his dragster from back in the day.

"Everything was 25 for him," said Millican, as he pulled out Dalton's necklace bearing a gold #25 emblem. The necklace was in Dalton's possessions given to him and Donna.

Dalton's cell phone was also in the possessions and served as a method to reach his parents in a profound way.

"The first night that we slept after Dalton had his accident, we had his possessions that were given back to us, an alarm goes off at ... you guessed it 6:25 AM. It woke us both up.  It wasn’t my phone, and it wasn’t hers, it was Dalton’s phone."

Millican said his son had a habit of naming his particular ringers.

What was this one named?

“Smile, you’re alive,” Millican said, fighting back tears. "I know that was a message to all of us, I know it was.  That message was for us that we should smile.  You asked me how I smile through it; that’s how, it was his message that we should smile every day."

 

 

 

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