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.
Well, you know, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross did this thing, this thing called the four stages of ... dying. I actually think there are six. And we've been watching ourselves go through this back and forth now for several months.He goes on to briefly name and explain his "six stages" (shock, sorrow, struggle, surrender, sanctification, and service). Then, several times in the interview, he illustrates how bereaved people try, cognitively or intellectually, to make sense of what is happening to them:
I have cried every single day since Matthew died, but that's actually a good thing. Grief is a good thing. It's the way we get to the transitions of life ... As guys, men, we don't do grief very well. It's not an easy thing for us because we don't like the negative emotion.Although Rick refers to the stereotype of men not being outwardly emotive, throughout the interview, he shows (and tells the story of) his own expressiveness as he journeyed down into the deepest emotional pain a person can feel. Speaking of the scene that led to them confirming their suspicion that Matthew was dead, Rick says:
We were sobbing. We were just sobbing. The day that I had feared might happen, one day, since he'd been born, and the day that I prayed would never happen, happened. And I remember, as we stood in the driveway, just embracing each other, and sobbing ... We knew that this day might happen someday but it's a day no parent wants. It's your worst nightmare. And I'll never forget the agony of that moment.And Rick shares a sentiment that I've heard expressed by a multitude of survivors, which perfectly captures the helplessness many of us feel in the face of suicide's sometimes inexplicable power over our loved ones:
If love could've kept my child alive, he'd be alive today because he was incredibly loved.Kay gives a heartbreaking account of the emotional and psychological trauma they experienced helping Matthew cope with his mental illness and keeping him alive when they knew he was suicidal. Here is just one of a dozen examples she shares of their ordeal:
[Matthew] had also told us that if we call the police that he would take his life instantly. So a call to the police was an instant suicide. So I was living with that horrible, horrible choice of, 'Do I call the police and perhaps intervene or do I take that risk of that call that he instantly killed himself.'Kay also shares about a common -- and excruciating -- difficulty survivors experience in many traumatic deaths, which is dealing with the violence involved. She says that they were fortunate not to have witnessed the scene of Matthews death ("the pictures in our mind are terrible enough"), and tells of the unspeakable moment when the coroner brought her son's body out of the house:
[I told them,] 'I'm going to hug him when you bring him out.' And so, they did. When they -- then when they brought his body out -- I hugged him for all it was worth, and the coroner tried to move me away and I was just like, 'I will be done when I'm done ... I'm hugging my son [until] I'm finished.'These few comments I've made and the brief quotes I've cited do not even scratch the surface of the Warrens' demonstration of how moving -- and how complicated -- grief after suicide truly is. These "snapshots" of what they said in the interview -- and indeed the entire content of the interview itself -- cannot depict the range of emotions and thoughts and experiences that make up the Warrens' response to their son's suicide, and I offer them here merely to express gratitude to them for sharing their innermost thoughts so publicly and to recommend their interview* to anyone who wants to know "what it's like" to lose a loved one to suicide.
Of course, "what it's like" is different for every survivor, which is why I am committed to publishing Grief after Suicide, for it is hearing the voices of the Warrens -- and voices of the hundreds of others who have survived the suicide of a loved one -- that helps us all know that we are not alone.
*This link points to the printed transcript of the interview. I could not find a video version archived online.</>