The post below is reprinted from Suicide Prevention News & Comment (a blog I published from 2008 to 2010). Diane Sawyer's interview with Sue Klebold was broadcast last night, and Klebold's book, A Mother's Reckoning, is being published on Monday. I am republishing the earlier post for two reasons:

• •  It recalls a remarkable meeting I and another colleague had with Sue in 2009, when she was exploring whether she might get involved in the suicide prevention movement.
• •  It emphasizes something about her that I believe is vital to understanding and honoring who she is, which is that she is a person bereaved by suicide who is on a healing journey.

Published November 29, 2009, with the title "Dylan Klebold’s Mom Is a Survivor of Suicide Loss"

By Franklin Cook

The November issue of O, The Oprah Magazine features an essay by Susan Klebold about her journey of healing after her son's involvement in the Columbine shootings, in which 13 people were murdered and which ended in her son, Dylan, and his partner, Eric Harris, killing themselves. Klebold's essay is a study in understatement, which obscures the fact that the voice behind the writing is that of an extraordinarily courageous and insightful woman, and I fear that the most important things she writes about will be lost beneath the nightmarish reality of what happened at Columbine on April 20, 1999.

One of the contributions she makes in her essay -- a contribution that I think merits careful attention -- is highlighting a very common experience of survivors of suicide loss:

While I perceived myself to be a victim of the tragedy, I didn't have the comfort of being perceived that way by most of the community. I was widely viewed as a perpetrator or at least an accomplice since I was the person who had raised a "monster."

That sentence, with a few changes in wording, could have been written by countless suicide survivors whose loved ones have been seen by others as weak or misfits or tainted or crazy or "monstrous" in some other way, survivors who themselves have been treated as complicit or blameworthy in their loved ones' deaths.

This notion -- that each of us who grieves over a death by suicide is "a victim of a tragedy" -- is central to my own view* of one of the complications of suicide grief; and the value of Klebold's observations about that phenomenon stems from the horrific nature of the shootings (there were 37 victims, 13 murder fatalities and 24 people wounded in the shootings), which accentuated her treatment as a "perpetrator." If she has healed as a survivor of suicide in the face of the truly awful and starkly wrong-minded judgments leveled against her -- in the most public of forums, the American mainstream media -- then her healing journey likely holds lessons for the rest of us.

My interest in Klebold's story is also based on the two times that I've met her.

Psychologist Margaret Clausen's article "What Remains: The Aftermath of Patient Suicide" is a remarkable account of a clinician losing a client to suicide -- and I recommend it as a first-person report that communicates vital information on several levels.

As literary memoir, it is a tragic, real-life story told in plain language.

"Are you aware of the events related to Jill?"
"No," my heart now pounded from my chest into my throat.
"Jill killed herself by handgun ..."
I do not remember what he said next, just that he was still talking. I gasped, crying, while simultaneously attempting to hide my upset.

And it shares the wisdom of a host of sage voices, from mental health practitioners to poets:

The great Jungian, James Hillman, stated that the suicide of patients is a "wrenching agony of therapeutic practice." It is also a reality of practice that we fantasize will not touch us, despite the statistics.

As an example of bearing witness to suicide loss, it covers the entire landscape. We learn that Clausen has lost two siblings to suicide, and we are given revealing insights into several of her colleague's very profound experiences with clients' suicides.

Todd had 15 years of clinical experience and ... was well versed in suicide prevention and intervention. After his patient's death, he refused to ever work with a patient again who even mentioned suicidal feeling states ... His stance is maintained to this day, six years later.

An article in a recent issue of the University of Portland campus newspaper,The Beacon, introduced me to a story about a death by suicide that was stigmatized and how the effects of stigma are unfolding in real time -- and hopefully about how stigma is being overcome.

The article, by UP student Logan Crabtree, caught my eye because he tells of founding, with fellow student Jesse Dunn, an Active Minds chapter at UP "following the suicide of our friend Mike" -- and I am always moved when, in the aftermath of suicide, survivors like Crabtee and Dunn take action to improve mental health resources and services in their community.

I was also touched by Crabtree's frankness about the struggles of the new chapter, including the impact that another student's suicide had on him, only nine months after the death of Michael Eberitzsch II:

We were devastated by the news of Conner Hall’s suicide ... For me his death felt like a personal failure. I spent weeks questioning and reviewing every event, article and Facebook post we had made [during the start-up of Active Minds]. What else could we have done? Why did this happen? What else can we do?

I sympathized with Crabtree regarding his feeling of personal failure, which I believe everyone involved in suicide prevention has grappled with, each of us in our own way -- and I was curious about what was happening at UP. An Internet search led me to the backstory, which is, at turns, both troubling and hopeful -- just as facing the harsh reality of suicide often is.

"Survivor Outlook" shares the voices of survivors of suicide loss whose experiences with grief and recovery have been reported in the news. To learn more about the survivors quoted, follow the links to the complete stories. Learn how you can suggest a story.

"I call his name, three times, by the steps, and I didn't heard anything, and that's when I went downstairs. The TV was off and -- that's how I found my son. He was gone. It is a horrible feeling when you hold your child's hand, and you can't do anything to save them." Angela Wesener, mother of Jonathan Wesener, 16, who died by suicide in May. (Appleton Post-Crescent, Wisconsin)

"We all have the most innate desire to survive. Thats our core need on the planet is to live, and when someone gets to the point that they take their own life ... that shows what hopelessness really feels like." Ganel-Lyn Condie, Lehi, Utah, sister of Meggan Killough, who died by suicide in 2014 at age 40 (Seth Adam Smith's "Keep Moving Forward" blog)

"At times it feels like forever. At times it feels like just yesterday." Shelley Davies, Alberta, Canada, whose son Keenan died by suicide in 2014 at age 22. (EMS World)

In Fort Collins, Colo., there's a small-town newspaper, the Coloradoan, that is making a big impression on me. Executive editor Lauren Gustus and her staff are covering the issue of suicide in Larimer County in as wise and sensitive a manner as I've seen, and I recommend the fruits of their labors as an example of a valiant effort to tell the whole story about the horribly difficult topic of suicide.

This, however, is more than great journalism (although it is all of that), for the Coloradoan is declaring its commitment "in the coming weeks and months ... to create a focused community conversation on this issue" -- and it seems courageous to me for a newspaper to lead the way like this, especially in a community where the suicide rate is 25 deaths per 100,000 people, which is twice the rate of suicide in the United States.

Please go to Gustus's introduction to the Jan. 15 issue to find links to the dozen articles, videos, and infographics that begin the Coloradoan's coverage.

And join me -- on behalf of loss survivors and everyone who is affected by suicide -- in thanking the newspaper especially for two elements of its reportage that are superb:

First is the infographic (a portion of it is pictured above), which Gustus says is designed not to focus on "the identities of these 81 people and how they died ... [but] instead to share something about how each lived." And the paper lists, month by month, all 81 of the people who died by suicide in the county, noting that:

Their passions, talents and dreams are a legacy their loved ones remember every day. That loss is personal -- something not to be exploited in our community’s search for answers.

Second, anyone in Larimer County can access an online form* to "share with us how suicide has impacted your life." An open-ended invitation is offered that is almost breathtaking to me in its compassionate intention. Here are the instructions:

Whether in the form of a letter, essay, song or something else completely, the Coloradoan wants to hear how suicide -- recent or historical -- has affected the residents of Fort Collins and Larimer County. Topics for written submissions include but are in no way limited to the following: What’s been your experience with suicide? What hurts the most about it? What should people talk more about? What is the biggest misunderstanding people have about suicide? What has the healing process looked like for you?

That seems like a wonderful way to start a conversation about suicide -- in Larimer County or anywhere.

* Note: I did not include the link to the form, since its purpose is to invite feedback from people in communities served by the Coloradoan, but since USA Today owns the Colorado newspaper, maybe this is an idea that will find its way up the chain of command and "go national."

I recently encountered a post from the blog of author Linda Sienkiewicz, titled "Derek's Black Hill Spruce," in which she recounts a struggle well known to survivors of suicide loss:

As a mother, no matter how many counselors, doctors and friends tell you suicide isn’t the parent’s fault, you can’t help but wonder what you did wrong.

In the aftermath of her son's death, in 2011, the family planted a Black Hill Spruce in his honor, but three years later, the once-thriving little tree "looked severely distressed, with brown needles and brittle branches, as if parched." And it is not difficult to imagine Linda's own distress over the tree's health:

I was shocked ... I watered it every day, but it continued to drop needles, and every day I felt more distraught. I had neglected Derek’s memorial tree. I had failed to take care of it properly and now it was dying. The metaphor was obvious. It seemed almost fitting that the tree would die under my care.

The story does not have a happen ending. The tree dies.

Why, then, is the story worth telling?

Because, as it turns out, the tree had a fatal disease. There was nothing that could be done to keep it alive. Again, the metaphor is obvious -- and telling the story of it was extremely valuable to Linda. She goes on to say that there really isn't a simple conclusion to draw ("there’s no way of knowing if we could have helped") but that, nonetheless ...

... it’s a sad truth that you can’t always prevent everything, and you can’t blame yourself.

I'm grateful for Linda's story because of how it helped her discover a very difficult part of her truth related to her son's death. She encourages us to believe that -- no matter how different our stories are, and no matter how various are the conclusions each of us draws about the suicide of our loved one -- there can be great healing in the very act of telling our stories.

The short video Firefighters Coping with the Aftermath of Suicide takes an intimate look at how suicide affects firefighters, both because they respond to suicide attempts and fatalities and because suicide strikes among their own ranks.

Please share the video with your local fire department (here's the short URL: youtu.be/QSH5EbNhJBA) and encourage firefighters to watch it (it's 11 minutes long).

In the video, Gretta Flatt, a firefighter with South Metro Fire Rescue near Denver, Colo., tells the story of a horrific suicide she and fellow firefighters responded to that triggered distress in her from a long career responding to traumatic incidents:

This is a prime example where I was not aware of how that would affect me personally. This particular call ... is really a hotbed .. I am at the latter part of my career, so it's like things are showing up out of the blue, and I have read about that, but it can really happen.

I'd like to add one more post to Grief After Suicide in 2015 -- to share with people who offer assistance to the suicide bereaved a video that inspired me to set an aspiration for the New Year.

In Laura van Dernoot Lipsky's TED Talk, "Beyond the Cliff," she touches on an idea that we who have a role in facilitating the healing of others hear a lot about -- namely, the need for caregivers to take good care of themselves to ensure that they are healthy and whole as they render assistance to others.

She identifies an object of aspiration -- to be present -- that unquestionably is an essential part of delivering compassionate care to others, emphasizing ...

... how critical it is that we continue to strive to cultivate our capacity to be present. One of the reasons we want so much to be present is we remind ourselves with everything that is out of our control every single day, one of the things that remains in our control at any given time is your ability to bring your exquisite quality of presence to what you are doing and to how you are being. That presence we know can interrupt the systematic oppression that is causing so much harm and can transform the trauma that is arising.

It is both enlightening and of great value to hear all that van Dernoot Lipsky has to say about the vital role that being truly present plays in transforming trauma in the lives of others. But the main point of her talk is how we, as caregivers, must "transform the trauma that is arising" within ourselves.

As I said, her talk inspired me to set an aspiration to be more present to whatever is unhealed within myself; and I am deeply grateful to van Dernoot Lipsky for reminding me so eloquently that it is vital for me to look anew at the age-old admonition "Physician, heal thyself."

(To hear a shorter version of her ideas on the value of presence in transforming trauma, start the video at the 16-minute mark.)

This year's final post on the Grief After Suicide blog features what I believe is an extraordinarily wise reflection on grief from Dr. Robert Neimeyer, a world-renowned expert on bereavement who is also a suicide loss survivor (shortly before his 12th birthday, Neimeyer's father died by suicide). His comments were recorded for an AfterTalk radio special shortly after the Paris terrorist attack on November 13.

A listener notes that "terror is the trigger for my grief and sadness" and asks how people might best respond to that dilemma. In reply -- while touching upon how acts of public violence can affect both the broader society and individuals who have experienced traumatic grief -- Neimeyer says:

I don't think that the pain of grief is often the problem. The pain that is problematic is that which complicates grief ... for example, when our own sense of rage or injustice begins to dominate to a point that we don't give space to the sadness [and] space to the mourning ...

He points out that his observation isn't about only terrorism but also about traumatic loss "in our own personal lives." Certainly, I would say, this applies to how various emotional reactions associated with a suicide can interfere with a person's feeling of pure grief over the death itself. (For more on emotional reactions to suicide, please see "Suicide Grief Is Unique Because Death by Suicide Is Unique.")

Suicide loss survivors may, then, benefit from the advice with which Neimeyer concludes his answer:

I think that a first step might be to distinguish what is grief from what is not grief and to recognize that grief in the presence of suffering and loss is an appropriate response to a tragic circumstance ... to recognize that there can be complicating emotions and behavioral responses ... Sometimes the problem comes with seeking a hasty solution ... to a circumstance that really requires a longer-term response.

Neimeyer alludes to one requirement of a longer-term response being space for sadness and mourning. In 2016, the Grief After Suicide blog will be dedicated to helping people bereaved by suicide find, create, and share the healing space we need to focus on grieving our loss.