Ever since my son Charles died by suicide in June of 2015, I categorize everything as either before his death or after. Tragedy has a way of doing that.
My son’s death literally split my life in two and I am forever changed.
Even now, I still instinctively scan family photos taken after his death looking for him. And when I don’t see him I feel shock and ache that loss all over again.
I have always heard when you lose a limb it takes a while to get used to the fact it’s missing and you feel it’s still attached to the body and moving appropriately with other body parts. They call this a phantom limb.
That’s how I feel sometimes about Charles. Phantom child.
My family of 4 is now 3 and it feels unnatural and incomplete. Learning to live without the person that was my purpose was the hardest part of my grief journey. I had to learn I could move forward without him. And at times I didn’t want to because it felt like I was leaving him behind.
Charles’ suicide triggered a complete about-face and reassessment of my life
Before his death, I knew what I wanted to do and where I was headed.
Once I lost something precious to me, the reality that I was not exempt from tragedy inspired a fear that it could happen again.
My tragedy, my grief, has often left me feeling untethered, like a kite cut loose, flapping uncontrollably in the wind. Those are the days I feel unsure of myself. That used to be followed by a grief relapse after which I came back fighting. These days it’s more of a moment where my breath catches and I engage in a self-talk strategy and say, “I know you miss him. He knew you loved him.”
Slowly I got back on my feet and started to find myself. I fell backward a lot, had epic relapses, and I learned to respect that I was not always the captain of the journey.
Things that meant a lot to me before, mean nothing now
My family has always been important. That hasn’t changed. But my purpose definitely has. And it changed the moment I heard the words, “Your son Charles killed himself.”
There is actually a sense of peace in that. I was on a weekend retreat recently and noticed that while everyone was looking for a transformational experience, it hit me that I had already had mine. And I experienced growth from it. While the retreat was a great reminder, I recognized how much I had grown, how little I cared about my “image” or how I had learned not to wallow or ruminate but enjoy the moment.
My mission as a mental health advocate is now a passion that I won’t give up until the day I die. There are many days I want to throw in the towel because it’s been riddled with rejection although that’s turned into demand now that mental health is such an important subject.
I can look at a person now and know they are hurting
I can instinctively pick up that someone else has lost a child. I reach out more. I am bolder about exposing my failures, my grief, and my guilt as well as my joy. In short, I’m more vulnerable and emotionally naked.
Some days I feel worthless. On other days my heart is so full I swear it will burst.
When people ask if I have children I tell them my oldest child is living his dream as a filmmaker and that my youngest died by suicide and suffered from addiction and depression. I feel no shame. I honor my son’s struggle. I use the word suicide; I talk openly about my son that died.
I tell my friends I love them. I have wisdom that I didn’t have before. I stand up for people others dismiss. I push the envelope daily.
I tell my own story before audiences without fear or admonishment. I give back to help me fill that hole in my heart. I worry less about what others think. I stop and smell the roses. I hold onto hope despite having suffered the most devastating loss of my life.
I listen to others tell their stories because each and every one of them is important and woven into the tapestry of life. I learn from those stories and they make my life richer.
I am determined what I do after my son’s death so that it will mean something. From the ashes of despair emerged a new person and I strive every day to make a positive change.
No tragedy is too big to overcome
While my son’s death split my life into Part 1 and Part 2, it’s Part 2 that has fostered the most growth and helped me find joy in all the little things. And Part 1 is filled with mostly beautiful memories of my younger son which today is less painful and more fulfilling.
I have moved forward, discovered so many things, surrendered to something over which I had no control, met myself where I was, and accepted who I am now.
If I can survive this, I can do anything. And so can you.
One sheet (2 sided pdf) on Anne Moss Rogers’ topics, bio, and reviews.
AnneMoss Rogers is a leading wellness and suicide education expert and one of the top mental health speakers and suicide prevention speakers. Known for her powerful, motivational keynotes, AnneMoss combines her personal story of loss with proven strategies to help organizations build a wellness culture that drives results and saves lives. She speaks at conferences, workplaces, K-12 schools, and universities, delivering impactful presentations that inspire change and promote mental health awareness.
AnneMoss does this work in memory of her son, Charles, who struggled with anxiety, depression, and addiction, and died by suicide at age 20 in 2015.
It has been over 3 years since I first reached out to you. My beautiful son passed away and I couldn’t imagine going forward without him. I still look forward to an email from you with a message of hope and resilience. Thank you for all you have done and continue to do for grieving mothers.
Clara- Thank you. You all have meant a lot to me. And I love getting to know each of you.
Oh my goodness you are not alone. I love what you are doing and raising awareness. Jordans school had raised money for mental health awareness, Unity center for behavioral health here in Oregon for the Last 2 years. So amazing . If you have a chance google Jordan Taff and you will see the interview Channel 12 did and represented the fundraiser for Unity Center for behavioral health. ♥️. We are all in this together .
Anna that is wonderful that you are putting your grief into action in such a positive way! I will google it.
Anne, this article couldn’t have come at a better time for me. It touched on all the things that go through my head and that I experience every day. We are approaching 2 years since our son Jordan died by suicide and each day is a new day. I am changed forever , my family is changed forever.
I find myself being more bold and pushing the envelope at times . No one knows how we feel with the loss we have experienced and live with each day. I am so grateful for all the memories, Part 1 and still working on Part 2 and moving forward.
A gain thank you for your beautiful article.
Thank you for saying that and making me feel less alone. Sometimes I write these posts and wonder, “Am I the only one?” Thanks to you, I know I’m not.
Hi Anne
You are not alone.
I lost my son 3 yrs ago. He had graduated in Robotic engineering, Mechanical and automotive engineering. Both degrees at once and he got a 1st class in both. He was known as A Saint,and Wisdom, because of his brilliance and his big heart .He was also called Ramos because of his good defensive skills in soccer. For those of you who follow football, Sergio Ramos played for PSG and Real Madrid as one of the best defender. He got the name Ramos because he played like him.ST.Ramos Wisdom popular known as was the most kind person that ever lived. He had an orphanage home at the age of 25 years . He cared for the poor and needy. On 20th August 2020 , St Ramos died of a blood clot. It was so sudden that he died on the way to the hospital. I was not around and because my son had never fell sick in his entire life, I didn’t expect such sad devastating news. My life will never be same.
We are many in this .I pray that God who promised to be close to the broken hearted, comforts us.
What a shock! Especially for someone who had been so smart, fit and healthy his entire life. And what a loss to humankind and sportslovers. Your son was an amazing and thoughtful role model. Thank you for sharing your story and. your heart, Betty. It helps all of us.
There is a freedom in knowing that we are not alone. I love you analogy of phantom pain,,that is so true. It has been almost 11 years since my son passed. I still think “did this happen before Robert passed or after?” As time goes on, there is less and less or the befores. Sometimes that makes me feel a disconnect. I still have a desire to keep connections with him. Recently, my beloved lab passed. The other dogs I have now were after he passed. That hit me hard Not sure why. When I listen to music, I always wonder if that artist was before or after.
I also feel he left me with a gift. Just like you said, I don’t sweat the small stuff as much, I take more time to smell the roses and I truly enjoy life so much more. I understand addiction and depression so much better now and it has enabled me to help some other people. AnnMoss, I can’t thank you enough for being emotionally naked. You help others so much
“As time goes on, there is less and less or the befores. Sometimes that makes me feel a disconnect.” Yes, Yes Exactly Vicki! Thanks for validating how I feel. Writing keeps me feeling connected which is why I’m so addicted to it. Thank you for sharing Robert with us.
Anne, I read this and I still ask how you’re doing it! My baby boy Jeremiah was murdered 3 month’s ago while at a teammate’s house playing video games. Most days I have zero will to live without him yet I force myself to function for my surviving son. I’m drowning in grief, plagued with Anxiety and in mental tournament at the thought of my son being Hurt! And completely retraumatized by this broken justice system. I need Help! Jeremiah Momma Bear, Olga
Olga- It’s perfectly OK right now to live because you feel obligated to live. It’s still so numb and so raw that how you feel is so relatable. I don’t know what will work for you but I can share what worked for me as far as getting out of bed. I would open my eyes and just say to myself, “AnneMoss all you have to do is put your feet on the floor…” From there I’d give myself one more step but that’s the first move I would make.
Your story….oh my gosh it’s so senseless. Murder is definitely a complicated death not unlike suicide is a complicated death. If you let me know where you are, city and state if you are in the USA, I can see if there are any discussion groups for those who’ve lost a loved one to murder. I know we have those groups here. And a suicide loss support group helped me. I just felt less alone with how I felt. Love and prayers for Jeremiah, your baby boy.
So painfully eloquent….my heart will forever go out to you….my losses (to suicide) were not as close to my heart as yours, but close enough (and include my best friend, a nephew and three other friends….God bless you..
That’s close enough. And there is no measuring grief or making comparisons. Loss hurts.