"Survivor Showcase" is an occasional feature on the Grief after Suicide blog, highlighting the personal stories of survivors of suicide loss (and other bereaved people) whose experiences with grief and recovery have been reported in the news.

This edition of "Survivor Showcase" begins with a story from a journalism class at Wenatchee (Washington) High School. Reacting to an article in the town's newspaper titled "Suicide Coalition Shows Us How to Solve a Crisis," Brenna Visser, opinion editor for the school newspaper -- whose 21-year-old brother died by suicide last summer -- writes:

This obviously caught my attention, mostly for the word "solve." Solve, as if the complexity of someone's pain were to be decoded like a Rubik's Cube ... Every case is individual: Why my brother died, and why Mr. Riggs' son has died, and every other suicide, has its own story. And for everyone who has felt that loss knows that this crisis is far from "solved"...

Brenna's faculty advisor, Dave Riggs, a survivor of his son's suicide, also weighs in -- then the two of them write:

We are treating suicide as the problem when it is the unbearable pain that a person experiences that is need of a solution. We can't "solve" a problem until we realize what the real problem is, and that is the complex way pain manifests within someone. There may not be a universal answer, but universal acknowledgement, kindness and respect for those who are struggling is imperative. Until we start dealing with the deeper issues, like mental illness, stress, etc., then there will be no improvement.

The American avant garde artist Andy Warhol said everybody gets 15 minutes of fame, and while I'm having my time in the spotlight, I want to share my words of gratitude with people to whom I am connected (because the theme of the entire affair is actually connection). The American Association of Suicidology honored me last week with the 2013 Survivor Recognition Award,* which "recognizes the efforts of one special survivor every year ... [who] used their own loss and grief to provide comfort and encouragement and healthy role-modeling to others bereaved by suicide in their community, state, or nation." I'd simply like to post my acceptance speech here, and leave it at that:

I ... didn't know how to say how deeply thankful I am in just a few words, so I thought I would try to explain what my intention has been in all this time -- for however imperfect I've been at accomplishing it, this is what I've tried to do:

I've tried to make my words and actions on behalf of survivors and on behalf of suicide prevention ... represent my gratitude for the great healing that has come to me over this almost 35 years now since my father killed himself. I've literally tried to carry in my mind and in my heart the entire web of relationships that make up my experience over those many decades ... and that awareness of the web of relationships that we are in has ... shown me how we are truly all connected. I've come to know that whatever happens to one of us, affects us all. So what I have ... tried to do is just to be compassionate toward the person who is in front of me in the moment -- because that's really all I can do. But I've found that that makes all of the difference in the world sometimes, not just to the person in front of me, but sometimes it makes all the world of difference for me -- and truly it is what I believe might change our world.

I also want to thank the fellowship of the American Association of Suicidology -- for all of you collectively and many of you individually have ... contributed to the meaning that I have found from my father's death and made me able to apply it in my own life. In one way or another, I ... do love each and every one of you, and that comes from many, many places, many sources -- but basically I simply believe that we're all in this together ... We are all in this together, and I am so, so grateful for the work we share. The goal that we are striving toward is to alleviate the pain and suffering ... that causes people to die by suicide and that we suffer in the aftermath of suicide -- and what a noble cause.

What was the worst imaginable nightmare -- truly an event that broke not only my heart but my spirit -- from that event has come a fantastically powerful positive force that I cannot explain, but that I am infinitely grateful for.

So I would just like to thank you one and all for this great honor. I will ... cherish this moment for the rest of my life. Thank you so much.

*(To learn more about the award and see a list of past recipients, go here, and to read my short bio, go here.)

"Survivor Showcase" is an occasional feature on the Grief after Suicide blog, highlighting the personal stories of survivors of suicide loss (and other bereaved people) whose experiences with grief and recovery have been reported in the news.

This installation of "Survivor Showcase" begins with the links to a recent in-depth series on survivors of suicide loss from the Argus Leader (Sioux Falls, S.D.):
• Son's Torment Stayed Hidden, Parents Say
• Faith Provides Comfort Amid Anxiety for Sister
• Mother Turns Focus to Mental Health Help
• Comfort Can Be a Hug, If You Can't Find the Words
• From Guilt and Anger to Helping after Dad's Death
• "It's Just too Much to Carry by Yourself"
• Parents of College Student Feel Love, Wrenching Pain, Sadness
• "You Can't Beat Yourself Up," Farm Widow Says
• Sharing Provides Healing, Hope for Those Suicide Left Behind

Sherry Proudfoot, a high school teacher in Vancouver, B.C. who lost her nephew to suicide in 2009, is joining forces with the Josh Platzer Society for Teen Suicide and Awareness to raise funds and promote running as a resilience-building activity, according to a recent report in The Province. Jude Platzer, who founded the Platzer Socitey after her 15-year-old son died by suicide, told the newspaper:

"You never know who this hits. If one kid is depressed or one kid is worried about a friend, and they talk to someone ... and it turns him around, it's so worth it ... If we could have (gotten) my son through a couple years, I think he would have been OK."

Frank Dumont is a type of survivor of suicide loss that people who work in suicide bereavement call a clinician survivor,* which is a caregiver who has been affected by the death of a patient's suicide. Dumont is an internal medicine specialist in Colorado, and according to a recent NPR story, the suicide of a patient he had been treating left Dumont "stunned, and guilt-ridden."

On what turned out to be the patient's last visit to the doctor's office, the man gave Dumont a gift:

"What in hindsight struck me about that visit is that he brought me a gift, which was a geological survey marker from the top of Longs Peak ... And what I didn't realize at the time was that that was, I think, a farewell gift, or a bit of a parting gift, from him. Because I did not see him again. And the next that I had heard of him was from an emergency phone call from his wife about a month later, and she called needing to be seen. ... She had to come in and talk to me [about] how to deal with the fact that her husband had committed suicide."

Dumont's patient was being treated for depression, and he shot himself with a rifle; and the doctor regrets not asking the man if he had guns in his home:

Dumont says he thinks more physicians would talk with their patients about guns if they got information about health risks associated with them.

BJ Ayers has lost two sons to firearm suicide, yet she knows that -- living in Cheyenne, Wyo., famous for its frontier culture -- addressing the role of guns in suicide can be challenging. In another NPR story, Ayers said,

"It's not that we want to take the gun away from the gun owner. We know that we have responsible gun owners in Wyoming. It's, you know, Wyoming is a gun state. We're rich in that history."

"Survivor Showcase" is an occasional feature on the Grief after Suicide blog, highlighting the personal stories of survivors of suicide loss (and other bereaved people) whose experiences with grief and recovery have been reported in the news.

Joan Rivers' daughter Melissa spoke to OK! magazine in the wake of Mindy McCready's suicide. Melissa, whose father died by suicide when she was 18, said "for years, I felt like there was a big giant 'S' ... on my chest. I felt very stigmatized by it":

"For sure, I have abandonment issues. I think anyone who goes through a suicide has abandonment issues. Someone's choosing to not be there. Especially when it's a parent. Somewhere in your head, you always wonder, 'Was it me? Why wasn't I enough?' You have to play out all the 'what ifs?' and 'if onlies,' and then you must put them to rest, and not let it define who you are."

KTVA TV reports on a vigil in Anchorage, Alaska for victims of suicide. Organizer Sarah Gunkel explained the meaning of the gathering:

"Today actually marks the eight-year anniversary of losing my father to suicide ... There is no shame in having a loved one who has taken there own life ... We can stand together and kind of support one another."

In my recent post about blogs that are written by survivors of suicide loss, I'm sure I missed more than one, and I am very glad that Molly Green's blog Live Out Loud came to my attention.

Molly, whose husband died by suicide in 2010, most recently wrote in "Transformation" about attending the screening of the documentary film Transforming Loss , which features her story, along with the stories of five other bereaved people. According to a story in the Detroit News:

"Transforming Loss" documents the grief journeys of six ... people who, in the face of devastating losses, were able to transform themselves and their pain through helping others ... [Filmmaker Judith] Burdick's vision, which began as a book and evolved into a film, was to provide "an intimate view of grief that would force people to really feel and experience the whole process: from grief to healing to transformation."

Burdick, whose husband died 22 years ago in a scuba diving accident, became a psychotherapist specializing in helping the bereaved. Then she was inspired to write, produce, and direct Transforming Loss to share her discovery that "loss can fuel 'a new energy which feeds the broken parts,'" according to a Detroit Free Press article. That is certainly Molly Green's story, who sees her blog as a part of her healing journey as well as a chance to help others with their grief:

"I feel like I'm the perfect person for people to talk to about this [grief] ... It takes time, but you learn lessons of strength, compassion and acceptance. There is some joy back in my life."

"Survivor Showcase" is an occasional feature on the Grief after Suicide blog, highlighting the personal stories of survivors of suicide loss (and other bereaved people) whose experiences with grief and recovery have been reported in the news.

Marie Osmond, whose son Michael died by suicide three years ago, spoke with reporter Michael Yo about her loss in a recent interview on omg! Insider:

"I know I'll see my son again, and it's that kind of faith that gets you through the difficult dark moments," Osmond said ... "Have I been through dark moments? Absolutely. Is it difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel? Sometimes it's very challenging, but I have great hope. If I were to say one thing that I would want to spread through this show and the things that I do is to give people hope."

Marie also talked about her son's death in this 2010 Oprah.com story.

In a guest column in the Orange County Register by Christine Lister, "Helping Others Cope with Sudden Loss," the marriage and family therapist reflects on the suicide of her husband's best friend and shares "ways to offer tangible and emotional support to those who [have] lost a loved one to suicide," including this suggestion:

Listen. Listen. Listen. Allowing the person to spill their emotions and verbally process without interrupting lets them know you are a safe haven for the internal chaos they are experiencing. Your presence alone is stabilizing.

My favorite definition of peer support suggests that survivors of suicide loss are helpful to one another because we "feel a connection":

This connection, or affiliation, is a deep, holistic understanding based on mutual experience where people are able to "be" with each other without the constraints of traditional (expert/patient) relationships.

In part, I write this blog (and do the other things I do that put me in touch with survivors) because I believe in our connection with one another as a healing force in our grief. In today's post -- to do what I can to widen the circle and hopefully strengthen that connection -- I'd like to identify some other blogs written by survivors. Below are brief descriptions of more than half a dozen blogs from people bereaved by suicide, along with a quote from one of the posts in each blog.

The Alliance of Hope for Suicide Survivors Blog is a reflection of Ronnie Walkers' commitment to spreading the word about the needs of the suicide bereaved and about the help that's available to meet those needs (Ronnie, AOH's executive director, lost her stepson to suicide). There are several fresh posts by a variety of authors every week on the AOH blog, such as "Learning along the Journey" by Susan Futterman Paroutaud, who writes only six months after the suicide of her husband:

I've learned still more since his death ... that I could have only done what seemed appropriate at the moment, and no more. I could not have controlled him nor would I have wanted to. And I have come to realize that an infinite number of crossroads stretched before the both of us.

Yesterday, I attended a training where I saw the film Rebirth, which is a deeply moving depiction of the grief process that I would recommend to anyone who has suffered a traumatic loss (as long as you have done some healing work of your own, for the story is extraordinarily powerful and is guaranteed to stir your emotions). The film juxtaposes time-lapse photography of the rebuilding under way at the World Trade Centers site with intimate interviews of five people who lost loved ones or were injured in the 9/11 attack. The images and stories evolve over nearly a decade of filming, creating a moving testament both to the deep pain caused by traumatic loss and to the resiliency humans -- and communities -- bring to the challenges of healing and recovery.

In a feature story published in 2011 when Rebirth was first released, Doris Toumarkine writes for Film Journal International:

While Rebirth makes fascinating use of the time-lapse footage of the rebuilding, it is the profoundly affected five subjects with compelling stories of trauma, bravery and recovery who provide the emotional life and narrative spine of the film. Their presence, also recorded over many years ... and captured digitally as they sit alone against a black background, gives the picture the distinction of being the first long-term film record of 9/11 survivors and families coping with grief and trauma.

"FJC's Journal" is an occasional feature on the Grief after Suicide blog, in which editor and publisher Franklin Cook shares observations about suicide bereavement from his personal experience as a survivor of suicide loss.

I was consumed by excruciating feelings of guilt for a long, long time over my father's suicide (he died many years ago, in 1978). My guilt came from the fact that I thought I was helping him, but I did not understand the nature of his illness, so some of the things I did were actually harmful to him (like trying to talk him out of his delusions and trying to persuade him with emotional arguments that he ought to go on living). In addition, I assumed things about the situation that were entirely inaccurate (for instance, that he had the capacity to take corrective action and to solve his problems; that he would never actually kill himself no matter what; and that if I just kept attacking the problem intelligently, I'd figure it out and be able to help him elude whatever danger he might be in). Most importantly, I failed to recognize that he was in a life-or-death situation. To this day, it still seems unquestionably accurate for me to say that my father needed me, I engaged purposefully with him in order to help him, and my failure to help him clearly contributed to his death.

Over the years, my telling of that part of my story has changed (even though the facts have not changed, and they never will) in a way that has transformed my feelings of guilt into what I would call feelings of compassion. This blog post is about that changed story, which has been a vital part of my healing.