Saying Goodbye to July
Note to reader: This is part of an ongoing series about the life of my youngest son, Charlie, who died in July 2022. It’s a love letter to the unspoken places of mothering, parenting, divorce, and grieving. Most of this series is behind a paid paywall for now. If you are new here, you can start at the beginning.
I really did try to fortify myself for July but I ended up sick with a sore throat and sinus infection most of the month and now I’m way behind with work and life and about 287,375 steps behind in my daily step count. Nothing in July felt like it was in the right place. I felt out of place, like I couldn’t find where I belonged.
July used to be a favorite month because it meant summer vacations and quality time with family. In 1995, it became my youngest son Charlie’s birth month. But since 2022, it’s also become Charlie’s death month, the time he left us.
At the end of his life, Charlie missed family. He’d left Indiana for California when he was 17. Ten years later, he died at a hotel near the Sacramento airport. He was wanting to go home to Indiana to see family who had moved on without him. Instead he died just after his 27th birthday.
There is a theory called the Birthday Effect that states you have a slightly higher chance of dying on or around your birthday than other days. A study in Japan showed that for suicide deaths there was a 50% chance of dying on your birthday and the cause could be related to severals factors including birthday blues.
I know Charlie was sad on his last birthday because he told me. He missed family. He missed the family vacations that happened every July and had continued without him. He just wanted to be invited. He just wanted to belong.
One of the gifts that Charlie left us was a letter he wrote to himself. He wrote the words he needed to hear so he could begin to heal. When others refused to witness him, he witnessed himself.
We’ve included parts of the letter in the documentary BODIES OF WATER (to be released in the fall 2026).
Excerpt from BODIES OF WATER :
Maybe that’s why I came back to his words this July. They remind me that even when someone feels unseen, their life still leaves a witness. Charlie’s letter has become that for so many people. The compassion he struggled to extend to himself is now something others may reach for when they need a place to belong.
I wish July still meant only birthdays and long summer days. Instead, it asks me to hold hands with joy and grief. It asks me to remember the boy who left home looking for where he belonged, and the man whose words have helped so many others feel less alone.
This July felt out of place in more ways than one. But maybe belonging isn’t about everything falling into the right place. Maybe it’s about continuing to witness one another, especially when life feels disordered, and reminding each other that we matter. Charlie wanted to belong. I hope, in some way, he knows that he always did.
