Charles

I met Charles because he married my best friend from high school.

Let me rewind.

Beth (yes, also Beth, but technically Elizabeth) and I became friends at the ripe ole age of 15, when we were all bravado, Marlboro Lights, and teenage certainty. Those were the days of a certain red Ford Escort (I think, or something that felt sporty at the time), heavy eyeliner, and bad attitudes (mostly mine).

Beth went off to college and became a teacher. I got married young and became a mom. We lived very different lives for a while, but our friendship held steady through all the twists and turns. Then came Charles, the tall, funny Navy officer with clever t-shirts, a razor-sharp mind, and an incredibly infectious laugh. He was exactly the kind of match Beth needed: strong, smart, kind, and absolutely devoted.

Their love blossomed, and before too much longer, I was invited to a beautiful backyard wedding. My oldest daughter was the flower girl. My youngest was snug in a sling against my chest. Beth cried, Charles cried, I cried . . .we all cried.

From there, their life became a Navy life - England, San Diego, Hawaii, and beyond, and I tagged along whenever I could. Beth and I stayed close, our friendship deepening with age, kids, careers, and life. They brought two beautiful, brilliant girls into the world, and I watched them build a life full of joy and purpose.

One time, I was in San Diego for work and let Beth know I’d be in town. She had plans, but she found a way to make it work. Charles and I spent that evening catching up over dinner while Beth mingled with other guests. He had this way of pulling people in, of making them feel seen and included.

Another time in Hawaii, Beth had scored incredible seats to a concert with a close friend. Rather than leave me behind, Charles quietly bought two more tickets (the nose-bleed seats in the rafters) so I could go too. That was who he was. Always thoughtful, kind, and making room.

Life kept moving, and Charles continued to rise through the Navy ranks. Beth earned her doctorate (that’s right, Dr. Beth!) and their girls thrived. It all seemed like it was exactly how it should be.

And then, in the summer of 2021, the call came from Beth, and she shared, in utter devastation, that Charles had a cancer diagnosis. Then, the next call a couple of weeks later, it’s stage 4 cancer. Then the next call, even worse, is that there’s nothing that can be done. Mind you, this man, who was the picture of health, had just taken command of a ship and had everything going for him just weeks earlier. I dropped everything, flew out to be with them, and sat beside my best friend as she held the hand of the man she loved while he took his final breath. It was the most heartbreaking, sacred moment I’ve ever witnessed.

So this Memorial Day, I pause to remember Charles, not just as a Navy officer, though he was an exceptional one, but also as a loving husband, devoted father, generous friend, and genuinely good human. He lived with integrity, served with honor, and loved with his whole heart.

There’s a belief that we die two deaths: the first when our body dies, and the second when our name is spoken for the last time. There are still several who speak of Charles, that I’m sure of. I want to be just one.

Charles' Navy officer hat - retired