Introduction
Title: “The Songs That Carry Us: William Lee Golden Reflects on Loss, Healing, and the Music That Endures”
There are moments in life when music becomes more than entertainment. It becomes a lifeline — something steady to hold onto when the world feels unsteady, something that helps us speak when words won’t come. For The Oak Ridge Boys, a group whose harmonies have lifted spirits for more than half a century, the past few years have been a reminder of just how fragile — and precious — life is. And no one has spoken to that truth more openly, more gracefully, and more honestly than William Lee Golden.
Now in his eighties, with that unmistakable long beard and the quiet wisdom of a man who has lived through storms and sunrises alike, Golden has recently opened up about what has been one of the most difficult chapters in the group’s history. It was a year marked by personal loss, declining health among longtime members, and the emotional weight of knowing that time — even for legends — keeps moving forward.
In his own words, Golden reflected not only on what has been lost, but on the resilience that continues to guide him. And that is where the heart of this story lies.
William Lee Golden on Loss, Healing, & Power of Music After a Painful Year for the Oak Ridge Boys is not a headline meant to shock or sensationalize. It is a testament to something universal — that even the tallest trees bend under heavy wind, that even the strongest voices can tremble, and that healing does not come all at once, but gradually, like dawn creeping in after the longest night.
For the Oak Ridge Boys, the year brought painful goodbyes. Friends, family, members of their touring crew, and in some cases, fans who had been with them for decades were lost. One by one, news traveled quietly among those who loved this music: someone had passed, someone else had taken ill, another voice had gone silent. And while the world often sees the bright lights of the stage, it rarely sees the quiet grief that waits backstage once the applause fades.
Golden didn’t shy away from speaking about that. He talked about how grief can arrive in waves — sometimes gentle, sometimes overwhelming. He spoke of sitting alone with old photographs, of replaying memories from smoky roadside venues where the audiences were small but the dreams were enormous. And he spoke about the moments on stage when a familiar harmony would ring out, and for just a second, time felt whole again.
But above all, Golden spoke about music — not as a profession, not as a performance, but as a gift. He described it as something sacred, something that bridges what is seen and unseen. Music, he said, carried him. It reminded him that love is stronger than pain, that memories are stronger than loss, and that voices never truly leave us — they just move into a different kind of forever.
And so, after a year of heartache, the Oak Ridge Boys did not stop singing. Not because they felt obligated, and not because the world demanded it.
They kept singing because music has always been the way they heal.
For William Lee Golden, healing is not about forgetting.
It is about carrying the stories forward.
It is about honoring those who are gone by continuing to live with meaning, gratitude, and grace.
And the music — the music is how we remember.