Cuddling up with my Charles memories

It still hits. Those grief lightning bolts of loss since Charles’ suicide. They are different 3.5 years later, however.

When it first happened, I could not escape those unrelenting waves of grief. I lost one third of my hair, screamed at the walls, blamed the carpet, broke out in hives, wrote two blogs a day to manage the hurt, and sank to the floor in sobbing wails of despair and loss.

The grief has softened into something like a vignette around a picture.

No longer do I run from my grief but towards it.

When it hits, I embrace it like a soft blanket and allow myself the tears and moments of remembrance. I let the journey take me back to a time when Charles was happy and allow it to remind me the last five years when he was not. But most of all I embrace those moments because that grief is the only tie I have with my son who killed himself.

This will never pass. I will never “get over” this part because I don’t want to. I don’t want to forget him. And I need these moments and honor the hurt as part of the fabric of my life.

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Anne Moss Rogers

I am the mother of two boys and the owner of emotionally naked, a site that reached a quarter million people in its first 18 months. I am a writer and professional public speaker on the topics of suicide, addiction, mental illness, and grief and my book, Diary of a Broken Mind, will be published in the fall. I lost my youngest son, Charles, 20, to suicide June 5, 2015. As talented and funny as Charles was, letting other people know they matter was his greatest gift. And now the legacy I try and carry forward in my son's memory. Professional Speaker Website

4 thoughts on “Cuddling up with my Charles memories”

  1. That second paragraph is so descriptive, I could almost feel your pain. Thank you for sharing so openly. Others are following your lead. Keep shining the light and bringing awareness. You are making a big difference.

    1. It was all of you who encouraged me to keep wriyehen I felt guilty for putting it out there and spurred me writing a book when I didn’t think I could manage it. Thank you for the comment. It means a lot.

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