Grief After Suicide Blog - Grief after Suicide

SURVIVOR OUTLOOK: "Your death is the burden to us, not your life"

3/19/2014

"Survivor Outlook" shares the words 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. Also, learn how to suggest a story.

"If you are reading this ... and you are struggling to survive ... do not stop fighting, not only for yourself, but for your parents, children, siblings and friends. None of our lives are better without you ... Your death is the burden to us, not your life." Diane Morrison, Port Caledonia, Nova Scotia, lost her 21-year-old brother to suicide three years ago.

"Every time he's in my dream, he's a little boy, and I'm not sure what that means -- except that Jeffrey will always be my little boy." Steve Boczenowski, Groton, Mass., lost his 21-year-old son to suicide in 2009. (Learn about the foundation created by Steve and his wife, Deb.)

"I have been shocked by some subtle and not-so-subtle comments indicating that perhaps I should be ready to 'move on.'" Kay Warren, California, lost her son Matthew, 27, to suicide almost a year ago. (Kay and her husband, Pastor Rick Warren, are hosts of the Mental Health and the Church Summit later this month.)

"He was the greatest kid in the world, but he would get into these panic spells and deep abysses ... He was wired different than the rest of us." Tommy John, New Jersey, lost his son, Taylor, 28, to suicide in 2010. (Learn about Tommy John's Let's Do It Foundation.)

GRIEF, TRAUMA OF SUICIDE TOUCH PEOPLE NEAR AND FAR FROM THE DECEASED

3/13/2014

In "Suicide by Train: Shared Tragedies Upend String of Lives," Orange Country Register reporters Keith Sharon and Greg Hardesty have given us an intimate look at the circle of people affected when someone dies by suicide.

The story -- of a middle-aged man's suicide on a stretch of track in Southern California -- gives voice to those bereaved and shocked and debilitated by the death, the man's wife and friends, a passer-by who witnessed the suicide, train engineers, and a father who faced an irony too horrible for him to comprehend or assimilate.

It is a story that should be read from beginning to end without much of a hint about its details, so I'll share only a glimpse of the man's widow and his father:

"As I was driving in the rain to the hotel [after being told of the suicide], my first thought was that this is more than I will ever be able to handle," she said. "I contemplated slamming my car into the light pole ahead."

A year later, she has taken up "public speaking, going to high schools and anyone who would listen to her talk about mental health and how to handle depression." She reports, though, that her husband's father "has never been the same":

He's fallen twice in recent months, and he was unable to continue tending to his goats, so he sold the farm. He cut off his phone service.

"Sold the farm": What an awful but apt description of bottomless grief.

This story about suicide by train illustrates the long reach of suicide's aftermath in all cases, showing how deeply it touches even those one might not expect, an ex-girlfriend who relapses on alcohol and a stranger who needs trauma therapy -- people who come face-to-face with victims in their final moments. Suicide, we are reminded, wounds people near and far from the center of a deceased person's life, as tragedy reverberates outward from the scene of a person's death.

"PUTTING A FACE ON SUICIDE" STRENGTHENS CONNECTION, WEAKENS STIGMA

3/2/2014

Putting a Face on Suicide Montage

MARCH NEWSLETTER FEATURE

People involved in suicide prevention and suicide grief support hear a lot about "reducing stigma." In an online course I just finished creating for the National Center for Death Education, I write:

Suicide stigma continues to be a powerful and active force that is woven into the fabric of our communal interactions. Stigma affects people who think about suicide, who attempt it, who die from it, and who are left behind to mourn the dead ... Research shows that stigma negatively affects [survivors of suicide loss's] tendency to seek help, their social connections, and their sense of isolation ... SOSLs consistently report that people often do not know what to do or say to acknowledge or support their mourning, which suggests that suicide stigma continues to influence people's beliefs and behavior.

We also know from research that direct contact with people who are stigmatized reduces negative stereotypes. This indicates how powerful Mike Purcell's "Putting a Face on Suicide" project might be, for PAFOS provides the next closest experience to "direct contact" with people affected by suicide stigma. The project shares thousands of pictures in a simple format that is breathtaking in how it captures the beauty and diversity of people who die by suicide and heartbreaking in how starkly it portrays the tragedy of suicide.

The simple format is a plain frame containing each person's picture, name, and age. The pictures are broadcast one suicide victim after another in a seemingly unending stream on the PAFOS Facebook page. The pictures of each unique -- and very alive -- human being connect us all to one another, hopefully in a way that weakens the influence of suicide stigma.

Here are instructions for submitting information about a loved one for inclusion in "Putting a Face on Suicide."

Subscribe to the Grief After Suicide Newsletter.

CLUES TO ANSWERING 'WHO AM I NOW?' CAN BE FOUND IN THE 'NOW'

2/23/2014

On Sept. 1, 2011, the bereaved mother of a 17-year-old boy who had died by suicide that June posted on the Alliance of Hope Forum a stark summary of how her perspective on life had changed and titled it "Who am I now?" In so doing, she voiced a question that the loss of a loved one to suicide (in fact, to a death by any means), universally prompts among the closest relatives of those left behind. I posted a reply to her at the time, which was published today as part of the Alliance of Hope blog's "From the Forum" series, and I'd like to share it with readers of Grief after Suicide.

In answer to the question, "Who am I now?" I wrote:

The loss of a loved one by suicide can for a time "take away" the fundamental things that orient us to who we are, our sense of safety, our confidence that the world makes sense, our knowledge of the nature -- and solidity -- of our relationships and of our roles within each relationship. “Who am I?” is a very important question that is worthy of an answer.

It is very common for survivors of suicide loss to divide their lives into two "parts," what happened before their loved one died and what happened afterward, and to characterize those two parts of life as two separate "existences." One of the "grief experts" I admire most, Thomas Attig, calls the process of grieving "relearning our world," which has been a very helpful framework for me. The world is a different place without my father in it, by which I mean that the internal landscape that included his presence within it -- along with every association to him that makes up my very personal view of who I am and what I am doing here -- is utterly changed.

The world is not just "different" in the way a person's hair color is different after she dyes it or in the way a person's lifestyle is different after she gets a new job (or loses one), but different in the way that a person's home is different after a tornado breaks it apart and scatters its contents hither and yon (destroying some of them along the way, not to mention wrecking the house).

SHARING OF SEDARIS ESSAY POINTS TO COMMON GROUND AMONG BEREAVED

2/16/2014

Thank you to Litsa over at What's Your Grief? for investing an extra quarter of an hour in her car in a Target parking lot a few weeks ago so she could finish listening to David Sedaris on This American Life, reading his New Yorker essay about his sister's suicide last May. Litsa passed the fruits of her labors along in a blog post that summarizes the essay's helpfulness regarding grief (and that also serves as an introduction to the thoughtful writing she and fellow blogger Eleanor routinely offer on What's Your Grief?).

As for Sedaris's essay, it is brilliant, understated in a way that keeps the depth of the tragedy at arm's length and creates resonant space for a couple of breathtaking moments like this:

"I don't know that it had anything to do with us," my father said. But how could it have not? Doesn't the blood of every suicide splash back on our faces?

The losses Litsa and Eleanor mention on What's Your Grief? in reference to their personal interests in bereavement do not involve suicide, and the way Sedaris's story is treated on their blog highlights, for me, how much all bereaved people have in common. I am dedicated to providing a special "space" for suicide grief and for the suicide bereaved, but I also always remember that, in so many ways, grief is grief.

SURVIVOR OUTLOOK: 'When they say there are no words, there are no words.'

2/15/2014

"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 to suggest a story.

"I'm still trying to process Karen's loss, and move forward ... and now [another student has died by suicide]. I'm numb. When they say there are no words, there are no words." Lila McCain, Massachusetts, lost her daughter, Karen, a high school senior, to suicide last fall.

"In my made-up version of the story, he didn't fake it. He got the zombie virus and did what he had to do to save us all. That's just easier to face than the real-life zombies of the plague that is depression." Mortbane's Miscellany blogger, who lost her father to suicide five-and-a-half years ago.

"It was very hard to take. Back then there was a huge stigma attached to mental illness, and it compounded my mother's grief that nobody would even mention James's name afterwards." Liam Brazil, County Waterford, Ireland, lost his brother, James, 35, to suicide 25 years ago.

"I spent most of my days in a daydream state of mind, believing that every time I saw a shadow or a figure that resembled my son, he would be back home to be with his mum soon." Annie Mitchell, Scotland, lost her son, "Finlay," 26, to suicide in 2000 (see her book Holding Back the Tears).

STORY OF 'SUICIDE SHATTERS' FOUNDER A REMINDER: WE ARE NOT ALONE

2/13/2014

I know Barb Hildebrand both for her thoughtful posts on the American Association of Suicidology listserv (a members-only community) and for the abundant and helpful content on her "Suicide Shatters" Facebook page (which I invite everyone who might be interested to follow).

Describing her mission on Facebook, she writes:

I am a passionate advocate for suicide prevention and mental illness since losing my late husband, Rob, to suicide Dec. 2000. I've had a lot of time to learn, accept, forgive, heal and move forward and feel so strongly that this is my purpose, to take my own experience, share with others and help them on their journey of recovery.

I got to know Barb even better when I recently encountered her story in a post she wrote for the Grief Toolbox about her experience as a survivor, in which she gives us a dozen valuable insights about coping with grief and shares in a most helpful way how her healing unfolded over time.

She believes a key force in her recovery has been forgiveness, which she says has freed her from painful emotions that were "consuming me and destroying me":

Forgiveness is ... not necessarily done for someone else, it is done for you, so that you can begin to heal whatever is holding you back. I have ... learned that forgiveness for yourself is best done first ... I have since forgiven myself many times for things I have done that most definitely contributed to how my life turned out. Each time I do, more and more is released ... and I [recognize] my anger [has] slowly dwindled away.

During the 15 years I've been involved in suicide grief support and prevention, I've known many fellow survivors of suicide loss "from a distance" and then either met them face-to-face or, as was the case with Barb, "met them" more intimately online. These connections stand out to me as a precious reward for doing this work -- and more importantly, as a vital reminder that we are not alone.

COLUMNIST OFFERS HEARTFELT REPLY TO 'LET ME KNOW WHAT I CAN DO'

2/5/2014

Debra Leibowitz has been writing her Miami Herald "Beach Buzz" column for 15 years, keeping folks up-to-date on community miscellany, everything from new stores in town to good deeds done by the citizenry. It's not front-page news, but it's the first thing people read to find out what's going on in the neighborhood.

Leibowitz's perennially upbeat column this week took a tragic turn:

As many of you know, on Dec. 10, my boyfriend, Richard Sharpstein, a well-respected criminal attorney -- and longtime Miami Beach resident -- died as the result of suicide. He was 63.

It is remarkable to me that, even as condolences are finding their way to her -- at a time when, in her words, she has "been paralyzed from grief" -- Leibowitz found the strength to deliver her column and to share her private sorrow with the world. She tells their story ("as fate would have it, we fell in love, almost immediately") and describes her pain ("I am angry he is not here and that he took away a big part of my life -- and future -- without asking"). Then she says something that, to me, is pretty amazing -- and which serves as a wonderful example of a bereaved person saying what she needs.

Here are a few highlights:

• Take a walk with me or invite me to play tennis or attend an event.
• Accept the fact that I cry a lot. I can't help it. I am sad and so many things remind me of Richard.
• Allow me to feel sorry for myself, but not too sorry.
• Don't ask me if I "feel better." I don't have the flu that runs its course in two weeks.
• Be patient with me and keep reaching out, even if I don't reply right away.

I have told many a survivor that it is not our job to "train" people how to be helpful to us, but maybe I should rethink that, for Leibowitz's advice from the heart is a powerful reply to the request the newly bereaved so often hear: "Let me know what I can do ..."

FATHER'S BRIEF TESTIMONY CAPTURES ESSENCE OF PARENTAL GRIEF

2/3/2014

Jeff Lassater, in nothing more than a two-minute talk with StoryCorp, gives priceless testimony on the complex emotional texture of the aftermath of suicide.

His 14-year-old son, Jeremiah, died by suicide in 2008, and in Jeff's soft, clear voice, he tells us "the grief never goes away ... the guilt, you'll always have." I certainly get that. But even so, I hear in his words evidence of a man who is fighting the good fight, who -- in the very act of saying what he is saying -- is coping with his grief and dealing with his feelings.

"I was Jeremiah's parent," he says. "I was supposed to be his protector, so I'm the one that's responsible for that action." His declaration conjures up -- in the real voice of a real parent -- the tension between what caused his child's death and the responsibility he feels for his child's welfare. In those few words, he touches the heart of countless bereaved parents who struggle with what they did or didn't do. For me, the statement is not about fault or blame -- but about identity: I am the boy's father.

Jeff's closing lines reject the passage of time as a simple balm for grief:

You know, people say, "Well time heals everything." Not when it comes to this.

I understand his rejection of that trite saying, but it also makes me wonder how Jeff sees time now: What does the passage of time mean to him? Some measure of healing is evident in his work on the foundation he started in his son's name. Surely, other forces have healed him -- for he had the courage one day to step in front of a microphone and share a few hundred words of wisdom with the rest of us.

POWER OF CONNECTION IS HEALING FORCE FOR SURVIVORS

1/29/2014

It is stories like "Members of a Very Small Club," by Jessica Lamb-Shapiro, that help literally to bring us together as survivors of suicide loss. Jessica's mother died by suicide when she was a toddler, and she shares what it meant to her -- many years later -- to meet for the first time someone else who had been affected by suicide:

Suddenly, here was someone I didn't have to protect from the truth. She understood ... the feeling of being an outsider that comes from not having this very fundamental relationship [with one's mother], and the feeling that you have to lie about it most of the time ... the wish to shield people from the grisly idea of a mother violently abandoning her child, and the paradoxical wish to punish them with the thought.

Many of us have had the experience Jessica describes so wonderfully -- of being uniquely and powerfully understood -- and her story goes a long way toward accomplishing her aspiration of "teaching the world's silent orphans an important lesson about openness and connecting with others."

Indeed, knowing that we are not alone is one of the most healing forces that exists.

Thanks to Joanne Harpel for sharing this story on LinkedIn.