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a Broken Mind, a memoir about my son Charles who died by suicide that includes our story as well as his published and unpublished lyrics.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and answers the “why” behind this cause of death, revealed through my family’s story and years of his published and unpublished song lyrics.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.
As a person who looks forward more than backward, I have always enjoyed the new year. But since Charles died by suicide there is the conflicted feeling I’m leaving him farther behind with each change of the calendar. I want to put on the brakes and stop the year from advancing.
But I can’t stop time no matter how much I deny it’s happening.
This year has been rough. On January 2, six months after radiation for a benign brain tumor, I lost one of my vocal cords and my once robust voice was no longer that.
I have so many memories of Charles and 99.9% of them are amazing and most of the memories are of him just trying his best to put a smile on my face and get a little giggle out of me, which he would never fail to do. He was so special and he was my best friend and I loved Charles.
But there is one memory that sticks in my mind and bothers me a lot. I’m slowly learning how to deal with the emotions that come up when I talk … Read more...
I want to spend time with the fam watching stupid movies and digesting turkey so I went for the easy cliche. That empty seat does hurt but it helps to be surrounded by family. And all during our Charles crises, they were there for us. After, they were there for us. No one in my family blamed anyone else or avoided the subject. For that I can be thankful.