Charles left a lot of writing. He left a computer. He left a phone.
The writing was very revealing. Enough so, I wrote a book to include it.
The computer did not have much. But I was able to get into his facebook account and that answered some questions.
We never got into the phone. I held it in my hand after his death and that thin screen between me and my son’s last pictures and texts might has well have been a twelve inch steel door.
Every time I punched in a code I thought might be the one, it would say, “try again in a day.” With each failed attempt, it would push those days out more until it said, I could try again in six months and then a year.
I wanted to know more so I investigated. I called people. Sometimes they called me.
To this day, there are people who do know more and won’t talk to me.
I don’t take that personally.
I had to come to terms with that and settle for the information that we did have and understand there would be blanks that would never be filled in. I know more than most and less than others.
I might get more information one day. Maybe what was contained in that phone was not something I wanted to see. Maybe there is a notebook out there of his I’ve not seen before. Who knows?
Suicide leaves behind so many unanswered questions.