Ten Things I Experienced After Losing a Loved One to Suicide

I did not know the actor Kristoff St. John. Nor was I familiar with his work on The Young and the Restless. But I am, at least in the…

I did not know the actor Kristoff St. John. Nor was I familiar with his work on The Young and the Restless. But I am, at least in the loosest countours, familiar with some of the emotions Mr. St. John was likely grappling with before his recent tragic death.

Like Kristoff St. John, I also lost a close love one to suicide. For him, it was his son four years ago. For me, it was my father over a decade ago.

And while no cause of death has been officially determined for Mr. St. John, there is a preponderance of evidence and clues that suggest he never stopped struggling with the intense grief over the loss of his son. And beyond feeling immense empathy for Mr. St. John and his entire family, who have faced tragedy twice, his story has once again reminded me of the severe risks that exist to those who are suicide loss survivors.

Study after study show that people who endure a suicide loss are far more prone to depression, severe anxiety and possible suicide themselves in the throes or aftermath of their grief. Those who are left behind because of suicide face incredibly specific types of challenges caused by the unique shock and dislocation that only a suicide can engender.

I’m not a doctor. Or a mental health professional. In fact, far from it. I’m just a guy who went through the grieving process about ten years ago. A process, by the way, that I never thought wouldn’t consume the rest of my life. Good news: it has not.

But enough time has passed to give me some perspective and clarity. So I thought I could pass on a handful of the things I thought and felt in my darkest days, with the hope that it may provide a modicum of relief or comfort to someone who’s still in the melancholic abyss of the grieving process.

What follows is a relatively random, non-chronological snapshot of things I experienced in the immediate aftermath of my dad’s passing.

The Grief Can Be Intense and Seemingly Unbearable

Sorry for not mincing words. But remember, you are not simply dealing with the sudden death of a loved one. But this is coupled often-times with probably unearned feelings of guilt, of mixed signals, of shock. All which goes along with the normal catastrophic emotions of losing a close family member.

You may experience occasional suicidal thoughts of your own. I know I did. So did others close to me. My depression was pretty severe for a few months. I had relentlessly scary panic attacks. But with therapy and medication and especially time, the pain and shock started to dissipate.

You can get through it. You just need to be kind to yourself. Not beat yourself for not healing quicker. You will start to see some light in the darkness when it’s time. And not before.

You’ll Likely Experience Some Denial or Disbelief

For me, that immediately took the form of thinking I must have misheard the tragic news from my mother. Then while driving to my parents’ house, I still held out hope that there must be some bizarre mix-up. It couldn’t be my dad — he was always happy, I just spoke to him a few days before. My wishful delusions were soon shattered by pulling up to a crime scene.

Still, in my case, I tried convincing myself that it couldn’t be him on the gurney. That even if it was, he couldn’t conceivably have died by his own hands. And longer term, for a long time any morning I woke up from whatever sleep I could muster, I still was momentarily convinced by the happy but false thought that everything surrounding my dad’s suicide had all been one horrible nightmare that I was finally awakening from. No such luck. But your brain will spend a lot of time denying the empirical facts to try sparing you some of the pain.

You May Briefly Experience an Odd Kind of Adrenaline Rush

Recently, I fell and broke my ankle in 3 places. And even though I was lying on the kitchen floor with my foot facing the wrong direction, I surprisingly felt little immediate pain. I was very briefly suffering from shock and being fueled by adrenaline.

I experienced a little of this in the aftemath of my dad’s death. Well, first there was devastating shock. But then at times, a weird shot of energy kicked in. I was so busy sorting through financials, contacting relatives, meeting with lawyers and accountants, searching for an insurance policy, planning a memorial and writing a eulogy that at times my body didn’t let me crumble under the weight of my grief. I had to stay up and energized to deliver the eulogy and make it through the funeral. Which somehow I did.

And then, once the relatives go home and life returns to a semblance of normal, that’s when the real hurting actually began in my case.

The Quiet Times are the Worst

This is related to the adrenaline rush of being busy, but it extends months beyond that actual first work of discovery. I was blessed enough to find a new job two weeks after my dad died. This one stroke of luck arguably saved my life. It gave me a place to put my thoughts beyond incessantly perseverating on how it happened, why it happened.

When my mind was occupied at work, I was doing marginally okay. The second my mind was free, I literally and figuratively collapsed. Even a bathroom break or a lunch break would trigger panic attacks. Because my mind was free to roam back into the darkest places.

Sleep Was Awful in the Beginning

If you think your mind roams on a walk to the bathroom, it takes severe detours into horror land while you sit in the dark not able to fall asleep. In those days, I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d either be too consumed thinking of my dad’s passing. Or afraid to fall asleep because I might dream about it. Or a combo platter that included one from each grief menu.

A lack of sleep will then beget more troubled thinking which, in turn, will impact your sleep patterns. This was the only time in my life that I was prescribed sleeping pills by my doctor. And I’m deeply grateful I was.

Your Eating Pattern May Also Be Out of Whack

I don’t have a definitive statement about eating and grief. I remember having zero appetite for a long time and being told I needed to eat. Other times, I behaved as if I was eating for an entire rugby team, clearly pushing down my feelings with meats and baked goods.

One minor detail I do remember: I ate many nights in a row at IHOP, stuffing my face with chocolate chip pancakes and sausage. And still with the grief-based stress, I still somehow managed to lose 5 pounds that week, In retrospect, I should’ve gone with the Rooty Tooty. Hindsight is 20/20. But my muddled message is you have to stay nourished. And you’ll likely lose weight anyway. Which, in the face of everything you’re facing, is the least of your concerns.

For a While, It Will Be Hard to Think About Anything Else

All bereavement is incredibly traumatic. Suicide grief is probably exponentially worse. It is almost impossible not to be consumed with questions. How did this happen? How did I and everyone miss the signs? Should we have known? Could we have stopped it?

These questions are valid and natural. But guilt and blaming of one’s self are totally counter-productive to your healing. Almost invariably in a suicide, the person going through with the act has likely gone to tremendous lengths to hide their intent. So often, they felt too much shame or guilt in their own psyches to reach out to anyone who could help them. Do Not Blame Yourself. They didn’t want you to know.

But that doesn’t mean it won’t be the single, recurring thought you have for a long time.

I remember thinking to myself in the weeks that followed, “Will I ever go a minute of my life again without thinking of this suicide?’ And for a long time the answers were “no” and “hell no.” And then one day, a minute WILL pass. Then five minutes. An hour. It’s different for everyone.

Then someday, a day will come when you go a full 24 hours without thinking about. You may even feel bad for a second that you didn’t. But this is healing. This is growth. I promise, it will someday shift from the all-consuming thought that dominates your every second to a sad memory that you occasionally revisit.

It’s Not the Movies. People Will Behave Like People Do

Anyone who’s seen a movie about families grieving may cling on to the romantic notion of people acting like their best selves as everyone pulls together to will you through tragedy.

Bullshit.

Which is not to say that I didn’t encounter a ton of amazing people who showed me and my family great kindness and grace. But then there were plenty of selfish people with their own agendas. There were people almost seemed to gloat over my dad’s passing, like they could have predicted it.

The fact is folks will act like they always act. But post-suicide, they are acting in a heightened, stressful crucible that may make their actions seem more outrageous. At a time when your patience and tolerance is woefully thin.

And remember, this isn’t a normal death. There is tremendous guilt, rage, family dynamics, money issues, blame. And those negative notions are being circulated throughout the process. All deaths are hard to get through. But a suicide is virtually impossible to grieve without a shitload of interpersonal collateral damage.

You’ll Be Shocked at What You Remember

That whole week following my father’s passing is a total blur. In addition to mourning my dad, that week also apparently featured a birthday swim party for my daughter and my son’s nursery school graduation. Because no matter how much it doesn’t feel like it, life must go on.

Of all the things that stand out, I hope you remember the big and small acts of generosity. I remember sitting at yogurt shop, reading a book about suicide grief and writing my eulogy. I ran into a brother and sister I knew, who shared with me that they had lost a sibling to suicide. We spoke at great length that day. I shared more of my feelings to relative strangers than I had to anyone but my wife and my Israeli therapist.

Similarly, I remember a note that I received from a writing colleague, just after I delivered my dad’s one eulogy, which somehow still managed to make people laugh and smile in the face of unmistakable tragedy. Her note said, “ I know you sometimes don’t think you’re strong. But what you did today shows that you are stronger than you ever thought you were.” And really, that applies to anyone suffering from suicide loss. You will get over it. You are stronger than you think.

Finally, Don’t Be Surprised When You are Triggered, Even Years Later

Like I promised above, you will almost unquestionably, I hope, reach a point where the truly pernicious grief has subsided. When you are out of risk yourself. And your loved one’s loss doesn’t consume your entire waking being.

That’s the goal. And with work and talking and sharing and counseling and medicine and time, it can happen.

And then you are simply out and about, living your life, when something completely unexpected triggers a flashback to the suicide or to the feelings of grief. And momentarily, you again feel like not a moment has passed.

It’s frustrating. It’s hurtful. And it’s totally normal. You experienced a close, personal tragedy. It can’t be tucked away and fully forgotten. That’s just not how life or feelings work.

For me, it can be running into someone who looks like my dad. Or was a friend of my dad’s. It can come when eating at one of his favorite restaurants or swimming at his favorite stretch of beach.

Just as likely, I am often triggered when I see unexpected depictions of suicide in a movie. Especially ones that mirror the method my father employed. Two movies from this fall totally fit that bill and sent me into a tear jag or a minor emotional tailspin.

The other big trigger for me is when someone else commits suicide, whether it’s a friend, acquaintance or a celebrity I’ve never met. Robin Williams. Junior Seau. Kate Spade. Anthony Bourdain. Every one of those deaths forced me to feel the shock and despair all over again. So did the death of Kristoff St. John.

In all these, cases it was like I was putting my hand briefly back into the flame. It hurt for a second, but it didn’t kill me. For we are strong creatures, we are resilient creatures. We have experienced tremendous loss and pronounced pain. But we have lived through it. So while reliving the memory can be painful, it is nothing compared to the horror and grief we already lived through.

Believe me, this is in no way of condemnation of those who seemingly lose their battle with grief. Not at all. All I can offer as an antidote is hope. It is a hope that no matter how awful the grief is, we are able to find a way to push through it, to keep living. To me, there’s no stronger way of honoring the memory of those that left us too soon.