People tell me that. But would he? There are a lot of things I do that I think he’d laugh at. In a good way.
Charles would sometimes make fun of me in a way that was not cruel or mean. It was his way of showing me another side of myself in a funny and entertaining way. And even now when I do some things, I think he is laughing at me like he used to. And then I chuckle and think, “You’re right Charles. I need to get over myself.”
This was the book survey you guys have been filling out. Almost 100 responses in five days so I appreciate the responses and ideas. Looks like we will start with paperback. Not to say we’ll never have hardcover but 59% want paper back. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want hardback at some point but apparently you have to go with one or the other for each run. The latest stats on what is selling.
Question was: My publisher suggests I find someone well-known to write my forward. Do you have any suggestions?
I feel it rolling in. It’s so subtle at first– a little extra heaviness and the tears are just a bit closer to the surface.
When the harsh daily news hits my ears, mass shootings, terrorist uprisings, more suicides and overdose deaths, they all resonate more. How much more grief can our culture endure? I wasn’t even paying attention to the date or the fact that the upcoming month, April, is a so close. But I looked up and there it is just days away. It’s Charles’ birthday month and he would have been 24. What would he look like? … Read more...
I’ve written a book called Diary of a Broken Mind, a memoir about my son Charles who died by suicide that includes our story as well as his published and unpublished lyrics. So you get the point of view of what our family went through from more than one perspective. The last third of the book is how I found hope, my purpose, and forgave myself.
I am looking for your opinion and would appreciate it if you’d take the survey and answer some questions. I have some blanks for your ideas, too. It’s five questions and you can choose … Read more...
My memoir, Diary of a Broken Mind, by Anne Moss Rogers and Charles Rogers, will be published in October 2019 by a traditional publisher, Beach Glass Books.
This book focuses on the relatable story of what lead to my son Charles’ shocking suicide at age twenty and answers the “why” behind this cause of death, revealed through my family’s story and years of his published and unpublished song lyrics. The last third of the book is a message of hope and healing.
Paperback will be first. Audio book six months later or so. And I have questions to ask you … Read more...
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.
The benign brain tumor next to my brain stem in the cranial nerve area is finally fried and won’t cause more problems. But it paralyzed one of my vocal cords. Socially, it’s debilitating because if there is background noise, no one can hear me. On microphone I do fine but I have had to limit my speaking engagements because the vocal cord gets tired.
The tumor was first discovered by Charles in 1999. Two craniotomies, one in 1999 and the other in 2000, a cranial reconstruction in 2003, and then radiation in 2017 … Read more...
Today, while packing away holiday stuff, I decided to consolidate Charles’ three boxes into two to make room. Some of the items have no memories attached. I actually sent a number of items to his friends after his suicide.
Still other articles of clothing carry strong memories–his blankie, the little leg cast from his fall down the stairs at eighteen months old. And this shirt. It’s what Charles wore the day he came home from rehab. He was scrubbed clean, beaming and so like the boy I remembered–the child that had been buried inside addiction just three weeks prior.