This is one of lines in Charles’ lyrics.
And on the occasion of his fourth death anniversary, I wanted to start with that. He died by suicide June 5, 2015, the worst day of my life. By comparison even a death anniversary will never feel as awful and unbearable as that day. And for that, I am grateful.
There are times I feel like giving up. Not on life but this cause. And then I ask myself, “So what else do you want to do?” There really isn’t anything else I want to do. By next year I need to be making a living at this professional writing and speaking business. That doesn’t happen by waving a magic wand but with relentless hard work creating contacts and reaching out to women’s conferences and colleges.
Charles is my incentive. If we don’t talk, people won’t know the signs. If we don’t foster a culture of connection, addiction, mental illness, overdoses, and suicide will continue to be on the rise.
So while I feel like a deflated balloon this week, my mojo will return. And my son who died is my incentive.