A gentle note before we begin: This post talks about suicide, grief, and losing someone we love. Please take care of yourself as you read. Help is available at the end of this post.
September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month.
I have been thinking about what I wanted to say because this subject is not simply an “awareness topic” to me. I have several very close mom friends who have lost children to suicide. These are women I care about deeply.
I have sat beside them. I have listened to them speak their children’s names. I have watched them carry questions that may never have complete answers. I have seen how much they still love their children and how desperately they want the rest of the world to remember that their child was so much more than the way they died.
So before we talk about warning signs, resources, statistics, or ribbons, I want to begin there. With the children.
A Child Is Never Just a Cause of Death
Behind every suicide-awareness ribbon is a person.
Someone with a name.
Someone who laughed, loved, dreamed, struggled, irritated their mother, made people smile, had favorite foods, favorite songs, inside jokes, bad habits, and people who would give almost anything to hear their voice again.
They were babies once. They had first steps, first words, school pictures, birthdays, messy rooms, hopes, fears, and stories that began long before the day their life ended.
Suicide may be part of how their story ended, but it does not get to become their entire story.
They were here.
They were loved.
They mattered.
And they still matter.
To the Mothers I Love
I know the grief of losing a child. I know what it is like to have my life divided into a before and an after.
But I also know that every kind of child loss carries its own pain, its own questions, and its own places that others cannot fully understand unless they have lived there.
Suicide loss can bring an especially painful collection of questions.
How did I not know?
Was there something I should have seen?
Could I have said something different?
Did my child know how deeply they were loved?
What if I had called one more time, checked one more time, stayed a little longer, or paid closer attention?
A grieving mother’s mind can return to those questions again and again, searching for the one missing piece that might somehow make everything make sense.
Sometimes there is no answer that can quiet them.
To the mothers I love who carry this loss: I wish I could lift those questions from your shoulders. I wish I could give you the answers your heart keeps searching for. I wish I could go back and change the part of your story that changed everything else.
I cannot do that.
But I can sit beside you.
I can speak your child’s name.
I can listen when you need to talk about the beautiful memories, the painful memories, the confusing memories, and the memories that somehow make you laugh and cry at the same time.
I can remember that your child’s life was bigger than their final moments.
And I can remind you that your love was real, your motherhood still matters, and you do not have to make your grief easier for other people to look at.
Please Do Not Be Afraid to Say Their Name
Sometimes people avoid mentioning someone who died because they are afraid of upsetting the family.
But a grieving mother has not forgotten that her child died.
Hearing her child’s name does not suddenly remind her. She was already carrying that awareness when she woke up that morning, when she made her coffee, when she passed their photograph, and when she noticed another ordinary thing they should still be here to see.
Saying their name can be a gift.
It tells a mother, “Your child has not disappeared from the memories of everyone else.”
You do not need the perfect words. Honestly, perfect words do not exist for something like this.
You can simply say:
- “I was thinking about your child today.”
- “I remember when they…”
- “Would you like to tell me about them?”
- “I do not know what to say, but I am here.”
- “You do not have to protect me from your grief.”
- “I miss them too.”
Kindness does not require a speech.
Sometimes it only requires staying.
Words Matter
For many years, people commonly used the phrase “committed suicide.” Today, suicide-prevention organizations encourage us to say “died by suicide.”
The word committed can sound as though a crime or sin is being described. It can add judgment to a family already carrying more pain than anyone should have to hold.
“Died by suicide” recognizes the death without defining the person by shame.
The CDC also recommends avoiding language such as “successful,” “unsuccessful,” or “failed attempt.” Instead, safe conversations should emphasize hope, help, healing, and the truth that suicide can be prevented.
Changing our words will not erase anyone’s grief. But it may help make the world a little gentler for the people living with it. And gentleness matters.
What Not to Say—and What May Help Instead
Most hurtful comments are not meant to be cruel. They often come from people who feel uncomfortable, want to fix the unfixable, or simply do not know what to say.
Instead of asking, “Why would they do that?” we can say:
“I am so sorry they were carrying that much pain.”
Instead of saying, “You cannot blame yourself,” we can say:
“I know your mind searches for answers. You do not have to carry those questions alone.”
Instead of saying, “Everything happens for a reason,” we can say:
“I wish this had never happened.”
Instead of telling someone to be strong, we can remind them:
“You do not have to be strong with me.”
And instead of avoiding the subject completely, we can ask:
“Would you like to tell me something about your child?”
The goal is not to remove a mother’s pain. We cannot.
The goal is to make sure she is not standing in it alone.
Awareness Must Also Include Prevention
Honoring those who have died is important. Supporting the families left behind is important.
But awareness must also make room for the person who is struggling right now.
Sometimes people are afraid to ask someone directly if they are thinking about suicide. They worry that asking might place the thought in the person’s mind. But avoiding the subject does not make the danger disappear.
We can ask gently and directly:
“Are you thinking about hurting yourself?”
“Are you thinking about suicide?”
“Do you feel safe right now?”
Then we listen.
We do not lecture. We do not argue with their feelings. We do not tell them how much they have to live for and expect the pain to vanish. We do not promise to keep suicidal thoughts secret.
We stay calm, take them seriously, help them connect with support, and remain with them when immediate safety is a concern.
Sometimes kindness looks like soft words.
Sometimes kindness looks like making the call.
To the Person Who Is Struggling
If you are reading this while carrying thoughts of suicide, please hear me:
You are not weak.
You are not a burden.
You are not beyond help.
You do not need to find the perfect words before reaching out. You can simply say, “I am not safe,” “I am scared of what I might do,” or “I need someone to stay with me.”
You do not have to wait until you are certain you will act. You are allowed to ask for help while part of you is still unsure.
In the United States, you can call or text 988 or chat through the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Support is available 24 hours a day, every day, and conversations are free and confidential.
If there is immediate danger, call 911 or go to the nearest emergency room.
Please stay.
Let someone help carry this moment with you.
Support for Those Grieving a Suicide Loss
Suicide loss can feel incredibly isolating, but you do not have to navigate it alone.
The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention offers resources for suicide-loss survivors, including support groups and Healing Conversations, a program that connects grieving people with trained volunteers who have also experienced suicide loss.
There is no correct timeline for this grief.
You are allowed to need support when the loss is new. You are allowed to need it years later. You are allowed to have days when you can speak openly and days when you cannot form the words.
You are allowed to grieve in the way your heart needs to grieve.
Their Lives Were Bigger
This month, I am holding several mothers especially close to my heart.
I will protect the parts of their stories that are not mine to tell. But I want them to know that I see them.
I remember that behind their grief is enormous love.
I remember that their children had stories, personalities, gifts, struggles, and lives that cannot be summarized by one final moment.
And I hope the rest of us will remember that too.
Suicide awareness should never be about reducing someone to how they died.
It should be about seeing the human being.
It should be about listening sooner, judging less, asking the difficult question, learning how to help, and making it safer for people to say, “I am not okay.”
It should also be about standing beside the families whose lives changed forever and letting them know that their children have not been forgotten.
To every mother carrying this particular kind of loss:
Your child was here.
Your child was loved.
Their life mattered.
Their story was bigger than the way they died.
Your motherhood did not end when their life did.
And you do not have to carry their memory—or your grief—alone.
If you would like to share your child’s name or one thing you want others to remember about them, I would be honored to listen.
Kindness always. Names remembered. Stories carried forward.
Love and Light
~Mandy
*Note: Image donated by Debi Sheffield in loving memory of Dack (Bjorn)
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