CharlieFest 2024 is done. It’s taken me a couple of days to really think about all that was achieved on Saturday 4 May. I was quite shell shocked for about 48 hours, but here goes…
There was a reason I chose this date to hold CharlieFest this year. You see, it’s an incredibly pertinent date for me and nothing to do with the fact it’s Star Wars Day (although I have it on good authority that Star Wars is actually quite a good movie and one to watch). It’s because it marked 20 years since I started working at PwC, 15 years since finding out we were pregnant with our first child, 14 years since I met some very special people and 10 years since Sporting Sittingbourne, the Sunday League football team that my late husband co-managed, played their last competitive game. If ever there was a day to come together to celebrate what would have been his 50th birthday this year, it was this one.
I’d love to be able to sit and write about how confident I felt going into the day. How little I stressed I about it. But this would be a total and utter lie. At the end of February (yes, that’s right, with just over two months to go before the event) I sent messages on group chats advising that I’d have to look at numbers when I got back from my holiday in April, and I’d be making a decision on whether I’d need to cancel. I was concerned about numbers. I was concerned about the financial hit I might need to take. People told me I was overthinking, that while the date was so prevalent for me, others would only really wake up to it and think about it closer to the time. But these reassurances didn’t really alleviate any worries for me.
In mid-March I went for drinks with two people who were organising the football match for me. They’ve had the pleasure (or perhaps misfortune?) of knowing me for nearly 30 years now. I’m sure that’s why I was allowed to get away with the forthright message I sent them, they know what to expect. I said to them that night that I was just worried that people would think I was flogging a dead horse and should just not bother. Again. They reassured me that no-one was thinking that. That I just needed to be patient and wait.
This would probably have been a lot for easier for me had I not been out of the country for two and a half weeks in the run up to it. When my daughter and I got back from holiday, we literally had three weeks to go until CharlieFest took place. I think I underestimated just how much emotion was going to come our way between the end of March and now. We did have an unexpected bereavement in the family, but I still should have envisaged that there were going to be a lot of poignant moments in the run up to Saturday’s event. As I mentioned, we were out of the country, and this was the trip my late husband and I had always planned to do for my 40th. A trip down the West Coast of the USA. We were away for my birthday which was the anniversary of him being admitted to ITU. The trip did us the power of good, but it was poignant, nonetheless. We had the fourth anniversary of his death which saw us attending a funeral in the church where our wedding, our daughter’s baptism and his Memorial Service all took place. It was painful. The following day I had some unexpected stresses and additional pain. Two weeks before hosting an event, and I was emotionally exhausted and drained. I was beginning to doubt whether I could even do it.
You see organising it has felt a bit like a full-time job. Except I also have a full-time job. I’m a mother. I have my own life to lead as well. It’s been full on. But I was sensible. I gave myself permission to take some time off on the odd occasion. I went for dinner and drinks with a friend. I spent quality time with my oldest friends who’ve known me since I was 11-years-old (although they did tell me the Escape Room we did wasn’t for me to escape from the real world and lock myself in). I let myself watch TV which is something I’ve only recently been able to do again. I relaxed, was able to shut out the rest of the world and be in my safe space. I started doing some breathing meditation. I decided to take a break from social media and doing my daily Be Thankful to give me one less thing to do.
Yet stress never really leaves me. When I sent my sister a message while on the train on Thursday morning with the two words “I’m done” she queried whether this was about anything in particular or just life. Keeping me grounded once again. Thursday was a hard day. I cried a lot. Too much going on in my brain. I sent a message to one of my closest friends asking if they had half an hour for a coffee or a hug on Friday because I needed a friend.
But. The ticket sales for CharlieFest continued to go up. The weather forecast was looking better. The supportive messages were coming in. By Friday, it felt like I was a bit more in control. The last-minute random thoughts and ideas I was having seemed to be making sense. I spent Friday night laminating. I love a laminator, it can’t be denied. My sister painted my nails in honour of CharlieFest and all things he liked, a camera, a microphone, a yellow heart, a fez and a football. We had an early night.
And then the big day came. CharlieFest was upon us. We started setting up at 9am. Me, my mum, my stepdad and my sister. The supportive messages were coming in. My notifications were pinging. I read a couple from friends who weren’t able to make it. “Have the most wonderful day. You are quite simply amazing, and Charlie would be so blinking proud of you. I’m so, so sorry we can’t be with you today. The biggest compliment I can give you is that I never met Mr Stuart Charlesworth, but I honestly feel like I knew him so well… because you have kept him alive in so many ways for so many people” and “Hope everything goes to plan today. I know it will be an emotional day but make sure to take time to stand still, take it all in and know Charlie would be so proud of what you have done considering he knew you couldn’t even make a bacon sandwich.” I knew I wasn’t done any more. But I also knew I couldn’t read any more messages because the emotions would build up. So, I stopped. I let the notifications mount and just concentrated on making the day everything we all wanted it to be.
That it was. Everything we wanted it to be. And much, much more. The love in the room was so, so strong. The love on the pitch was so, so strong. There was a real sense of community. To look around and see children on the bouncy castle, people having their faces painted, dancing to the disco, smiles, laughter and hugs. It was simply perfect. There were family, friends, colleagues and people who had never met him but wanted to be there. It was powerful to be a part of.
And then we hit the live music. Starting with the local Rock Choir. As well as On Thin Ice and Phat Gandalf, both of which feature band members who used to be in bands with my late husband. The coming together of so many aspects of his life was so strong. Football. Music. Family. Friends. But the most incredible performance of the night was from our daughter. Who stood up and sung three songs that he used to sing. Two of which featured the vocals of her father. They duetted. In public for the first time ever. As she sang Drive by Incubus, a video featuring photos and videos of them both played behind her. I don’t believe there was a dry eye in the house. As I looked round I could see the tears, the hugs and the emotion. It was palpable. Her fourth and final song of the night was also a nod to the date. The Glee version of Don’t Stop Believin’, the song that always reminds me of her. Because my late husband and I were watching the pilot of Glee when I had my first contraction with her. 15 years since finding out I was expecting her, she sang the song that reminds me of going into labour. Music is kryptonite. Simple as that.
As I looked round the room, I was simply so proud of all that had been achieved. You know, sometimes I amaze even myself. I didn’t do it alone. Not at all. But it was my idea. To see it play out in reality made me feel so humbled. To watch my late husband’s father speak to, and hold the hands of, the ITU nurse who was with Mr C on the day he died was a hell of a moment. We’re back to that word again. Community.
People told me on Saturday that I don’t need to do this again. That I’ve done what I need to do. That I need to live my life now. It’s all said with the very best of intention and love, I do know that. But I wonder if people would say this if I was a marathon runner, if running was my hobby and then I chose to donate money raised to a charity. Because the simple fact is I am living my life. In so many ways. But doing what I do is such a major part of my life. I’m currently having life coaching with a fabulous person to help me make sense of all parts of my life, and she asked me a question nobody else ever has. “Why do you do it?” As I thought about the answer, the emotion and the tears hit me. Because I’d never thought about it and therefore said these words out loud. “Because something good has to come out of the horrific thing that happened to us. It can’t have been nothing. I just can’t have it be for nothing.”
That’s the reality. I don’t do this because I’m living in the past. I do this to turn the most horrific thing in the world into a positive. To be able to help others. To raise awareness of other important charities. But more than that. Being able to be in a room full of people enjoying themselves is something he would have loved. The amount of people who asked me if I was doing it again because they love the community I’ve created and aren’t sure they’d all get together in this way if it wasn’t for CharlieFest. The first words he sang with my daughter on Saturday were “Whatever tomorrow brings, I’ll be there” and in a way he was.
Stuart ‘Charlie’ Charlesworth has left a legacy of community. A legacy of hope. A legacy of love. There is nothing greater in this world. As a message I received yesterday said “He would have loved his legacy being one of people and things he loved coming together. Just amazing.”
* If you would like to make a donation which will go to the Intensive Care Unit via Medway Hospital Charity, please do so via this link.*
Life is a rollercoaster 