When I hear this song, See You Again, I lose it. It was used on this video that Adam Bloom, my friend Martha’s son, created for the memorial service get together after.
Another one Lost Boy, a song about Peter Pan whom I referenced in Charles’ obituary— “Charles Rogers was Peter Pan. He was just never meant to grow up.”
I remember when I was a teenager and I’d break up with a boyfriend. Every single song on the radio seared my heart. It was as if the radio was there to remind me of my pain.
After Charles’ suicide, I was unable to listen to any music of any kind for the first nine months. Every song made me cry and I was usually in the car driving. Because my crying was so visceral, I was unable to see. I’m talking all-out, breakdown blubbering of epic proportions complete with screaming at the top of my lungs at the windshield. So it was not actually safe for me to play music in the car. Because that’s what I had to do to let all that pain out.
Charles used music to reach others who were hurting and they’d reach out to him and tell him how much his music meant to them. Other than his family, this was the single most important thing in the world to him until heroin was introduced to his brain.
But while heroin took over my child, a piece of him remained. Heroin never robbed him of his creative genius. He never lost his edge or his ability to communicate a poignant message in his music. He was a prolific writer both before and during his addiction. At the time, I had thought he had stopped writing. Now I know he did not.
Louis, his promoter and publisher, told me Charles sat on a bench during the last week of his life writing. All day one day. He didn’t leave to get drugs, he just wrote. I believe that was the day he ran out of hope and was trying to find it. Trying to find some peace like he had in the old days when writing was his go-to and the drugs were not yet so prevalent.
I also believe he probably started withdrawing. He would not survive long after this because he was going through withdrawal when he took his life.
So he has a half a song. His last one.
You will hear it one day when I publish my book. It took me a while to figure out what to do but I’m going to leave the song unfinished. Like Charles’ life.
Music is so powerful. It takes us places our brain may not want to go because it touches our hearts. I would imagine it is especially poignant for you all since Charles wrote and sang his own songs. Sending love.
It is. And sometimes one of his songs will play from iTunes and I’m startled.
Same.
Drops Of Jupiter. Collide. Ho Hey. Trouble. I have a Whitten playlist, for when I want to go there.
I have charles’ old iPod. We had gotten him one that would hold 3,000 songs. That iPod coils notconnect to the internet. And it has thousands of songs. His songs. All kinds. It was in his backpack when he died. For when I want to go there.