I bet I am not the first mom to write their child in heaven. But this is my first letter to you since you died. I hope you get it because I am not sure how to have something sent to heaven.
It’s been about 8 months since you left us and I miss you. All the time. Every day. And I always will. There are days I wake up and the realization that you are gone just hits me like a freight train in my heart.
I am not angry with you for killing yourself. I was shocked at first. But then I read all your music and it was so clear how much you suffered. You know we tried to help. And I know you didn’t always like how we helped but we did the best we could with the resources we had.
I know you loved us. I know you wanted to end your pain and I wish my love for you could have been the antidote.
I still have some of your clothes and belongings packed in boxes. The thing I can’t bring myself to open again is the plain brown bag with the clothes you were wearing when you died.
Who would ever have thought that they return the clothing of the dead? Who has that job? The job that puts a label on a bag with the clothing someone hanged themselves in? Do they think about the person who was in them? Or is it just another day on the job?
And what do people do with them? I can’t part with them. But I can’t face them either. When I first got that bag of clothing, I pulled them out and just hugged them. For hours and hours I cried and held those tan corduroys and that red shirt taking in your scent.
And the shoes. That was the most ironic thing. It was that pair of converse chuck taylors with superman, man of steel. Nanny gave those to you.
They didn’t help you that day and I wish they had. I wish you had really felt like the man of steel. But to me, it was those shoes that made me hurt the most. I loved those shoes. You loved those shoes. How could they let you down?
Depression had sucked all the energy from you. So much so you reached out for something that would make you feel better. Only in the end, it was the thing that killed you. It was my greatest fear heroin would find you– and it did. Why did I have to realize all of my greatest fears?
I want you now to give me strength and help me do what I need to do to help others avoid having to go through this pain. I need you to help me deal with this pain of missing you.
You were the cutest, sweetest child ever. You know that right? You stopped traffic as a toddler and everyone loved you. You made a difference Charles. Just in the short time you were here.
You said in your music that you didn’t think it was possible for a soul to bleed inside. I know what you mean because my soul does that, too. But I keep going and I am not sure how. I have gotten a hug from you every once in a while. Thank you for that. They mean a lot.
Please get in touch. Somehow. I love you.
10 thoughts on “Dear Charles. My letter to heaven”
I am so very grateful for your writings Anne. Blake loved Charles and he loved you and now I know why. My soul bleeds too. Blake’s room is still Blake’s room and it always will be. I believe Charles and Blake are in heaven making beautiful music together. A Medium, Sherrie Dillard, asked me if Blake has a friend in heaven and I immediately said, Yes Charles Rogers. I find solice in believing they are together and I hope you do too.
Much love Anne❤️
I haven’t done a medium yet but I’m going to. I just got a name. I kind of want to see one in person. I have so much online that I won’t be able to give my name. I loved Blake, too. He would keep up with me and I appreciated that. Both with their gorgeous curly locks. I miss him, too. Thank you Jana.
Hi.im broken hearted, reading this should make me strong n looking more to life ,rather than how I feel daily. Such emotional words and memories you have said,I have spoken with 1 of my daughters how I feel n been feeling, she said dad you are just selfish and I would hate you.xx take care.
Gary. Your daughter doesn’t know it but she is using emotional blackmail. She does not understand what’s going on in your brain. I am grateful you have made it through what you have and I have confidence you will persevere. Your daughter loves you. That statement proves it to me. Thank you for commenting.
That letter brought tears to my eyes…thank you anne..love
Anne Moss what a beautiful letter to Charles. You were right when you said he could light up a room when he walked in. We all loved Charles. Sometimes I feel like us neighbors Co parenteral our kids. I will never forget Charles and Sydney and a few others building an igloo out of snow. We had shoveled our deck so there was a huge pile of snow for the igloo. Because of the deep snow, our dog Mia had been going poop on the deck. Let’s just say there was more than snow in that pile!! The look on his face as he discovered the poop was priceless. Without hesitation he began to make funny jokes about the poo. He made us laugh for hours. Just from stuff he talked about I know how much he luved you Randy and Richard. Hope he knows how many people cared and loved him
You are so amazing Anne Moss! Your beautifully written letter to Charles is, unreal! I see who he got his talent from …. You! You have a gift. You are akso the mother of an Angel. Your strength, dignity, Grace and honesty inspires us all.
Yes, our soul bleeds. At least mine does. There are times it hemorrhages. My Richard’s clothes didn’t come back home, I’m sure they had been cut to shreds trying to treat him on scene. What we did get back was one of his boots. One of his best friends returned to the site of the crash and surveyed the area for something, anything. He found a boot. I am sharing this with you because I believe we can find a message, personally encoded within their belongings, all of them. My son’s boots were steel-toed work boots, Die Hard sold at Sears and where work boots are sold.
Couldn’t have said it more plain. Multiple traumas from a motorcycle accident hitting a tree.
I find solace in the fact that though the medical world sustained him ‘artificially’ for 17 hours; his soul had already transcended. He was freed from the physical body seconds before impact. How do I know this? Because a mother knows. After 22 years, I know his voice. I’m learning to recognize this new world and its ways and means of communication. There was no need for further suffering.
Now almost 10 years later, yes, his sweet smell, his personal fragrance remains on his clothes that were left behind. Nothing has been washed. Nothing ever will be.
It’s just the way it is.
My treasure, my connection, and my right.
May you continue to seek that connection and may it flourish in ways you never imagined.
This is only the beginning of a beautiful journey between a mother and her son.
Thank you. Needed that from a more experienced mom in this journey. I think you are right.
Oh honey, my heart hurts for you. Those shoes- oh my god. Sending you my own virtual hugs.