Until mid-December, I'll be writing "FJC On The Road" posts to keep readers up-to-date on my travels and on my reflections about suicide bereavement. This post -- originally written for the American Association of Suicidology's "Newslink" -- announces this important survey for men who are bereaved by suicide. FJC

What do we know about the needs of men who are bereaved by suicide, and -- if, in fact, male survivors of suicide loss do have unique needs -- what is being done to meet those needs? The answer to the first question is that we know very little specifically about men's needs after they experience a loss to suicide (beyond what we know generally about grief after suicide, about the differences between men's and women's psychological make-up, and about their different styles of communication and help-seeking). The answer to the second question is that almost nothing is being done to meet the special needs of men who have lost a loved one to suicide.

Here is a personal story -- not about grief specifically but about "sharing emotions" -- that illustrates why it is important to find answers to these questions.

The first experience I had that marked me as a man in therapy (as opposed to a woman in therapy) was in early 1982 in an aftercare support group in Twin Falls, Idaho, which was designed to help people who had completed inpatient treatment for addiction make a successful transition back to the community after spending a month in an institution.

Two very different stories came out this week about parents who lost a child to suicide, and later, the parents themselves died by suicide.

In one -- a news report about a mother who never came back from her grief and killed herself nine months after her son died -- the mother's sister says,

"She talked about suicide every day since Mikey died. We took her to counseling and grief groups but she did not want to get better ... She wanted to be with Mikey."

In the other -- a first-person reflection about a father who broke down mentally and killed himself several years after his daughter died -- his other daughter writes,

Perhaps everyone has a breaking point. An incident or event that cannot be overcome, a moment in time that can never be erased. Most of us might get through life without encountering it, but my father was not so fortunate.

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

One of my tasks for publishing the Grief after Suicide blog is, daily, to look at 100 to 200 headlines related to suicide or suicide bereavement. A computer program collects them from the Internet and organizes them into lists for me, one list of headlines on the topic of suicide only, another list on grief only, and another list on suicide and grief. I read the top two or three paragraphs of a dozen or more of the stories I encounter every day, and I read a handful in their entirety. I've been doing this for months, and I did it for a couple of years back in 2008-2010, when I was publishing Suicide Prevention News & Comment.

I've been thinking about the cumulative effect on me of being exposed to all of those reports on suicide. Even if they're about survivors' growth and healing, there is heartbreak in every one of them; and in fact, many are provocatively sorrowful, and a few include graphic details of a death. Why is it that I do not feel traumatized by this? Am I detached? Numb? Have I compartmentalized the suffering caused by suicide? Have I been desensitized to it?

I don't think so. Here is what my experience has been and some observations about my reactions ...

"Survivor Outlook" (formerly "Survivor Showcase") is a regular feature of the Grief after Suicide blog that highlights quotes from 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.

• Edith Young, Hendersonville, N.C., lost her son, Timothy John "T.J." Brown Jr., 20, to suicide in 2012: "I can feel him around me, but I miss him desperately."
• Chuck Lewis, Ronan, Mont., lost a fellow Marine, Cpl. Greg Avila, 22, to suicide in 2012: "Do you see anybody else doing it? Somebody has to step up" (see walkingforthefallen.com).
• Virginia Blanke, Mandeville, La., lost her son, Ricky, 16, to suicide in 1991: "I don't know how anyone else does it ... I only know how I lived. It was a lot of grace from God and a lot of people who loved me."
• Diane Marseglia, Bucks County, Penn., lost her daughter, Becky, 16, to suicide in 2005: "I can honestly tell you it was like a village," said Marseglia [about her support group]. "I felt like I lived there because the people all lost someone to suicide, they knew exactly how I felt."

I encountered a fantastic film that tells the story of surviving suicide loss candidly and informally, covering the subject in-depth and completely, in a way that very few resources I know of accomplish. The film, "Survivors of Suicide Loss,"* offers a profound and intimate viewing experience, and I recommend it highly to anyone who has lost a loved one to suicide and to everyone who offers assistance to people bereaved by suicide.

The film is basically 90 minutes of five survivors sitting in a circle talking, and even though this approach gives it a homemade feel, the impact of what these survivors say collectively and individually is powerful. The participants, Erika, Andrea, Larry, and Chris, and the facilitator, Penny, demonstrate how enlightening and inspiring -- and hopeful -- it can be when survivors get together and speak from the heart.

I am keeping my recommendation brief because the film speaks for itself, but I do want to say one thing about it that is truly exceptional: Although all of the survivors share their story in a very courageous and helpful way, the one man in the circle, Larry, provides an extraordinary counterpoint to the stereotype that bereaved men are "unable to talk about it" or "unable to express their emotions." I mention this not to compare his story to any of the others (which are all superb) but rather to emphasize in my recommendation that viewing this film would be especially helpful to any man bereaved by suicide.

*Knapp, P. (2012). Survivors of suicide loss: Resource DVD. London, Ontario, Canada: MIKO Productions. Available for purchase here (for a donation plus shipping costs).

I have blogged several times about the aftermath of Matthew Warren's suicide -- first on how his death stirred fresh discussion about suicide in Christendom and then on how his father, Rick Warren, one of the most well known Christian clergymen in the world, announced upon his return to the pulpit that his "next big ministry push will be to remove the stigma associated with mental illness in the church."

Earlier this week, Rick and his wife, Kay, sat for an hourlong candid interview* with Piers Morgan on CNN. They reaffirmed their commitment to help change the landscape of mental illness in America (and in just a few sentences, Kay courageously made it clear that although Matthew died by suicide, he was killed by mental illness):

If you look at the risk factors of what puts people at risk for suicide, Matthew had almost none of the risk factors. He had a great, as you say, a loving family, he had the access to care, he had friends. He had everything ... The main risk factor for him was mental illness -- and he had that.

As important as their new ministry might be (and, indeed, people of their stature could champion a vital dialogue in the Christian church that might truly make a difference in how mental illness is viewed in the entire society), I am not going to focus on that in this current post -- for the fact is that the Grief after Suicide blog is not about suicide prevention or the mental health system, strictly speaking (although you will not find a more stalwart proponent of suicide prevention or of improving the mental health system than I). The reason this blog exists is to bring attention to a different topic, which is the urgent need -- as a society -- to give more and better support to people bereaved by suicide.

And Rick and Kay Warren's interview offers what I believe is an extraordinarily helpful (albeit painful to watch) and very intimate view of what happens to people when they suffer the death of loved one by suicide.

Fresno State recently produced the film "Survivors: Hope & Healing" to share the stories of four people bereaved by suicide who have an affiliation with the university. The 11-minute film draws an excellent picture of who survivors are and how they view their losses. Below is a single quote from each of the survivors, as well as the film in its entirety.

Leann Gouveia, a Fresno State alumnus whose mother Sharon died by suicide in 1994 at age 51, now works in suicide prevention: "I feel very very powerful, and I know my mother would be so proud."

Angel Moreno, a Fresno state student whose close friend from high school, Monique, died by suicide, wants people who are hurting to know that they are not alone: "There are others around you, those that really care about you that also believe in you, even if you don't to the fullest."

Paul Ogden, a former Fresno State professor whose 24-year-old brother David died by suicide when Paul was a child of 11, shares a sentiment from a letter his brother wrote to him: "Remember to love others more than anything else in the world, and you will be happy."

Carolyn Brown, a nurse whose daughter Kari was a Fresno State student athlete who died by suicide, gives encouragement to "those who hear people crying for help ... to continue to push and not give up on them."

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

I decided for World Suicide Prevention Day to write about how my father's death by suicide has protected me, personally, from dying by suicide. I believe I am among many survivors of suicide loss who would say -- without being one bit melodramatic -- that they might have died by suicide had they not experienced the suicide of a loved one.

My experience with suicidal thinking stems in part from the fact that I was a practicing addict from when I was 18 years old until I was 36. There are two incidents from that part of my life that illustrate the connection, for me, between addiction and suicide.

Sometime in early 1990 (just a few months before I got clean for good), I did something that I believe went beyond being "high-risk behavior." About three times within a couple of weeks, I got as drunk as I could get, then smoked one more joint, and drove down Highway 73 south of Martin, S.D. so fast that my car would barely stay on the road -- daring God to kill me the whole way. This would be at three or four in the morning, and I'd cover the 18 miles between Martin and Merriman, Neb. in a dozen minutes. Then I'd turn around in the parking lot of the Sand Bar and drive back north, following the speed limit (more or less), listening to rock-and-roll, and reflecting on the meaning of my life. That seems like a first cousin to suicidal behavior to me, although I didn't think of myself as wanting to die at the time.

"Survivor Showcase" is a monthly feature of the Grief after Suicide blog that highlights the personal stories of survivors of suicide loss (and other bereaved people) whose experiences with grief and recovery have been reported in the news.

The mother of a 25-year-old veteran who died by suicide has submitted a petition on the White House website stating "I buried my son yesterday because he could not get the help he so desperately needed" -- and asking for increased care for soldiers with PTSD. According to the deceased veteran's wife, Laci Baker,

"If somebody is reaching out to them with post-traumatic [stress disorder], that is not something that can be shoved to the back burner. Obviously in this situation it was a life or death situation. It was too much to deal with."

NFL star Dave Duerson's brother Michael added his voice to the discussion about the NFL's recent settlement for concussion-related brain injuries. Dave Duerson died by suicide in 2011, at the age of 50. Michael works with local young people through the Dave Duerson Athletic Safety Fund to improve safety in the game of football:

"It's been an effective way for me to deal with my grief, by working diligently to make sure that lightning doesn't strike twice in another family the way it has in ours," Michael explained.

Tregg Duerson, the football player's son, was honored with the LOSS (Loving Outreach to Survivors of Suicide) 2013 Charles T. Rubey Award this spring in Chicago, where he said,

"I loved my father ... I always cherish all the moments I had with him, and I miss him each and every day."

When I summarized a handful of reflections various representatives of the Christian faith offered about suicide in the wake of the suicide of the son of mega-church pastor Rick Warren, I found great hope in the compassion and understanding that was universally expressed by the commentators I quoted.

So I noted with interest an op-ed in the Houston Chronicle by a leading suicide researcher, Thomas Ellis, who commented on Warren's first sermon after his son's death four months ago. Ellis writes,

[Warren] resisted the urge to explain the unexplainable and instead delivered a sermon with a passionate call to action. His emphatic message was that neither suicide nor mental illness should be cause for shame; and he committed to his global audience to use his public ministry to eradicate the stigma associated with mental illness.