It started in early March 2025. I struggled more to find words when writing, as they slid through my brain like a colander.

I tried to grab a missing word for a brochure I was writing for my neighborhood house tour (volunteer job). The word I wanted was similar to “grove of trees,” but it wouldn’t come, no matter how hard I dug.

ChatGPT was no help, and an hour later, I felt it close, but it scattered away only to be retrieved hours later—“canopy of trees.” The word I was chasing was canopy.

I thought it might be an aging brain, but it came on too quickly

I woke up crying one night, and it occurred to me that I have been here before—grief brain. The grief has been pressing on all sides and then pulling me like an undertow. I have felt tangled and unruly, unfocused and negative. Why does my body and my brain know before my conscious mind is aware?

For the last 5 years, from 2020 to 2024, my grief on Charles’s birthday has been there, but softer and more manageable since his 2015 suicide. In the early years from 2015 to 2020, in anticipation of his birthday, I’d break out in a grief rash all over my face and neck, and feel the pull of grief so acutely I’d curl up in a ball.

Since it had become more manageable, I expected easy sailing this year, too. Hadn’t I gotten past all that?

Thankfully, those itchy welts haven’t dotted my face and neck with angry welts, but the familiar forgetfulness and irritability did emerge, subtly at first and then more urgently. I started experiencing more physical aches and pains reminiscent of my early grief.

You really can feel grief in your chest, joints, and shoulders. It’s as if you are carrying something heavy.

The hurt has been sharper and more amplified this year, like everything that goes wrong feels so much more personal.

He’d be 30 this year–my ghost in heaven forever frozen at age 20

I won’t hold his children, meet his wife or girlfriend, or take care of his dog, which he’d have likely dropped off at the last minute at the most inconvenient time. I loved and loathed his impulsivity at the same time. It feels unfair that my older son will have to bear the brunt of our getting older, something he is not at all prepared for.

I have forced myself to stay connected lately– to stay in motion, but I feel my neediness shines like a neon sign and have feared it will make those not in the club run or even pity me.

Making the connection, however, helped

Once I became aware of why I am more agitated and emotional, I’ve been taking better care of myself and giving myself grace. That has softened the anticipation of the birthday– always heavier than the actual day.

Life events often activate a specific feeling or regression of sorts.

The journey is hardly a straight line, but a tangled mess of emotions, you somehow get the rhythm of over time. It’s never over. You never stop loving the child you lost. But I promise it does soften if you put in the effort, and I’ve learned strategies and acceptance.

I have learned to live with love, joy, and grief. And I now invest some of that love into advocacy to push forward his legacy of letting other humans know they matter. Because as funny and talented as Charles was, that was his greatest gift. Love you Charles.

AnneMoss Rogers

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.