We are Keepers of Each Other

A thank you letter to my Keepers...

I’ve been preparing for July like a boxer prepares for a fight. I’m doing what I can to strengthen my heart for the month that holds both the birth day and death day for my son, Charlie. This July it will be three years since Charlie changed worlds.

Last year in the days leading up to July, I was having trouble breathing, blurred vision, and heart palpitations that woke me at night. I ended up spending eight hours on July 4th in the E.R. Turns out I wasn’t having a heart attack. I merely had a broken heart.

That time
I thought I could not
go any closer to grief
without dying

I went closer,
and I did not die.
Surely God
had his hand in this,

Excerpt from Heavy by Mary Oliver

After that I committed to holding my hand over my heart several times a day and silently saying, “You know how to heal.” Sometimes I can feel Charlie’s hand over my hand. You know how to heal, we both whisper together.

Often the healing comes in other forms: a voice message from Suzie telling me a story that makes me laugh, a photo of a ballon or feather from Nicole, a cheer text from Julie, a blessing from Sami, a kind note from Susie, a toast to Charlie made by Lisa to presence him at a family wedding, a prayer from Jenifer, and endless listening from Dee. Without knowing it they are each placing their hand over mine, You know how to heal.

They are my Keepers.

Charlie, the summer he turned one

And then there are the Keepers that I haven’t seen in years but reach out at the perfect time. One is Faye, a lifeguard at the country club pool where my four children swam during Indiana summers. Her good friend Molly was also a lifeguard at the pool and both of them often helped me carry four children under the age of five down the thirty steps from the pool to the parking lot and then into my red Volvo station wagon so we could go home for afternoon naps.

With Faye’s permission, I’m sharing part of the email she sent to me recently:

I know it's almost July. Two years ago my parents mentioned Charlie…I had not yet heard, and it took until the end of reading Grief Glimmers Grace to believe.

Charlie was the cutest, the sweetest, the most bright-faced child at the pool. He was always wearing a full grin, traipsing around with his suit half off. His little legs were always racing (NO RUNNING!!!) to follow the bigger kids into the pool, his laughter lingering in the air above.

I remember when you got in. It was one of his first swims. You did not carry him back, you let him reach for you as you guided him to the end.

I remember crayon marks on carpeted stairs. You had just moved in. You stepped over them.

I remember your white bikini, exposing the belly that carried him. We all thought you were wild and stunning. You gave us new paradigms for mothering.

Molly is in these memories somewhere, sauntering down the ramp, carrying a load of towels in one arm, Willie leaping from the ramp railing, clinging like a monkey to the other. One of us would carry each of them, but I think it was usually me scooping up Charlie.

We lost Molly to overdose in October 2021 but honestly, I had lost her long before then. We begged her to be clean; we covered for her. She routinely fell asleep in the lifeguard chair; we sat on the side of the pool in sunglasses pretending to read magazines. I grew up looking up to her and wanting to be nothing like her.

We are all responsible for ourselves; we are all keepers of each other.

I've kept Charlie and all of you in my heart. I love seeing Sunny and Ray, both little Charlie’s.

Betsy, words fail to express how deeply sorry I am for what happened to Charlie. Thank you for using your words, for continuing to write about him, for giving him life and keeping him very much alive. As always, I admire you so much.

With Love,

Faye

*Faye now works for a program called Charlie Health which is focused on ending suicide and supporting people in crisis getting the support they need.

Willie, Lucy, Charlie, Sam

For the month of July, I’d like to write and send a letter every day. For Charlie, for myself. If you are here and a subscriber, please send a DM with your address and I’ll send you a letter sometime in July. (I’ll stop after I get 31 requests, 27 spots remain.) Even if we’ve never met, each one of you reading these stories have been my Keepers for the past three years.

I truly appreciate you being here and witnessing my pain without trying to fix it.

I appreciate you sending messages of love and support.

I appreciate you saying Charlie’s name even if you never met him.

I still feel sadness. I also feel stronger.

Thank you for being here. Every Wednesday, I offer a writing prompt for paid subscribers to Substack along with occasional bonuses like free screenings of films. The first Wednesday of every month I offer the prompt to all Substack subscribers.

Writing Prompt for July 2, 2025

Tell about a getting stronger.

After reading the prompt, write for 15 minutes allowing your awareness to guide you. Don’t *think* about the prompt, just start writing. If a different story comes up than the theme of the prompt, go there. You may be surprised by the story that is revealed. If you feel called to share your story, please email it to betsy@betsybmurphy.com (written or spoken word).

If you need more inspiration for your writing, the book Write On: A Daily Writing Practice for Anyone with a Story to Tell has 365 days of writing prompts.

If you need support through grief, the book GRIEF GLIMMERS GRACE has stories plus 52 weeks of writing prompts to guide you through tender times.

Are you ready to explore writing your first book or your next one? Your Story & Your Stars petite writing intensive allows us to work together to gain clarity on the story you are ready to tell. If you have questions before booking, please email betsy@betsybmurphy.com and we can schedule time to chat.

More information about my books and films at betsybmurphy.com