For the last two months, I’ve been thinking a lot about an old friend of mine. We correspond mostly via email and through holiday greetings these days, but fifteen years ago I saw her every day. I heard all her fabulous stories about her little boy, who was about six at the time. He was a smart kid, and like most little boys, very good at getting into trouble. He was, in short, the light of her life, and I loved every story she told me about him.
Two months ago, she sent an email about her son. She started with an apology for such abrupt news, then proceeded to explain that her son had suddenly died. She told when the memorial service could be, and where donations could be made. She then expressed her extreme sadness at the loss, as well as her gratitude for the kindness her friends and loved ones had shown her in the days since her son died.
I didn’t quite know how to process the news that her 21-year-old son had died, just two months before his college graduation. I sent her loving and heartfelt wishes, and googled to see if I could learn more about what had happened.
The obituaries were quite simple, and all said the same thing. “Died suddenly.” I knew from my journalism school days that “died suddenly” was an obituary page euphemism for suicide, but I had difficulty accepting that such a great, kind, smart, loving kid — a kid with so many people who loved him so much — could do such a thing.
I thought about it, and sent her more supportive messages, but felt as if my efforts weren’t sufficient. I struggled to find words that might provide comfort or solace in such a terrible situation. Even as I struggled, she sent out messages full of love and hope. What happened to this mother is heartbreaking for me, though not nearly as much as it is for her. Her early messages were filled with a mother’s anguish, but also with all the love she had for this dear boy who died at far too young an age. Her posts now celebrate her son’s short life, and urge young people to do anything they can to stop suicide as they commemorate their lost friend.
It took me quite a while to accept the simple fact that, just as I couldn’t understand a friend’s suicide in college, I’d never really understand a friend’s son’s suicide now. I see the same love and bewilderment in her son’s friends’ webposts as I felt as I struggled with the loss of a friend to suicide when I was in college.
The simple fact is that there is no explanation that will ever suffice in such a situation. Suicide is a horrible, sad, and completely unnecessary thing. It is also, unfortunately, a fact of life for young people (and their loved ones) today, just as it was when I was young. Our hormones and brains don’t always process things smoothly when we are young, so that small crises can seem world-ending. They aren’t, but that is sometimes hard for people, particularly if they are battling depression, to see in the midst of the quagmire their lives seem (to them) to have become.
The best thing we can do for kids today is to reach out to them, offer support, and try to be there for them if we see them in crisis. But that may not be enough, because sometimes a crisis can go unnoticed.
So we must be vigilant in finding and supporting organizations that offer people in crisis alternatives to such a final end to a life that hasn’t yet been fully lived. A few links that provide useful information are posted at the bottom of this post.
The one thing I know for certain is that we must continue to find ways to prevent suicide because it hurts so many people — the one who dies, certainly, but also all those left behind.
The National Suicide Prevention Resource Center: http://www.sprc.org/
HHS Suicide prevention information: http://mentalhealth.samhsa.gov/suicideprevention/
The Suicide Prevention Action Network: http://www.spanusa.org/
The Brady Campaign: http://www.bradycampaign.org/facts/gunviolence/GVSuicide
