Suicide is quite a different animal than other deaths. Not only is there no time to say goodbye, but the survivors are left with a million guilt and shame-ridden questions. “Why did I not see it coming?” “Could I have stopped him?” “Was it my fault she killed herself?”

Lilly’s eyes were as hollow as an empty tree as she shuffled back to my office with her tattered backpack. Her therapy “homework” for the week was to bring special pictures and treasures to her session to share with me. It’s rare that I sit next to a client on the couch, but as she unzipped her dirty, LL Bean backpack the tears had already begun to flow. I repositioned myself next to her and braced myself for one of the hardest hours of my personal and professional life.

“He’s really dead,” she blankly mumbled as if to practice just the sound of this new statement. She was just thirteen years old.

“Yeah, he is,” I replied. “It sucks.” No amount of graduate-level classes prepares you for this situation. And then, with a hot, flushed face and steady tears, she looked directly at me and begged the question of all questions:

“If he loved me, why did my Dad kill himself?”

The pain and heaviness of Lilly’s desperation were almost too much to bear. And ultimately, only God knows the answer to that horrible question.

What we do know is that according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, every 12.95 minutes an American commits suicide. It’s the 5th leading cause of death for adults ages 45-59, and 3rd leading cause of death for our students – ages 15-25 years. Statistically speaking, we’re all likely to face this question at some point.

Suicide is quite a different animal than other deaths. Not only is there no time to say goodbye, but the survivors are left with a million guilt and shame-ridden questions. “Why did I not see it coming?” “Could I have stopped him?” “Was it my fault she killed herself?” The nature of suicide itself is an act done in absolute isolation. Thus the reaction of those left behind is often to retaliate in isolation. It takes a great deal of courage for a survivor of suicidal loss to acknowledge the need for help, and have the guts to face the tornado of emotions that follow.

Thankfully, Lilly had courage.

I learned from her that the most ineffective and blatantly unhelpful comments were those platitudes of religiosity that are certainly well-meaning, and usually true, but offered at inappropriate times. For instance, Romans 8 says, “all things work together for good.” This is beautiful and it is true. However, for someone dealing with the shock and grief of death, the “good” is usually not something embraced until much, much later. Similarly, the promise that “God never gives us more than we can bear” might one day be a comfort to Lilly and her family. But time is a vital ingredient to that reminder. The truth is, this level of grief was not meant for Lilly to bear alone. Suicide of a loved one is more than any human could reasonably be expected to cope with. But for God…

C.S. Lewis in his famous book, A Grief Observed, so brilliantly explained our most valuable position in speaking to others dealing with death. He said, “Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand.”

Advice from a Trained Professional (take it or leave it):

As with any grief circumstance, initially it is best to use the ‘no questions asked’ approach. The most powerful words are those left unsaid. A gentle touch, and a common tear shed, speak volumes over mustering the “right” thing to say. There is no right thing to say. Death is wrong. It isn’t how our story is supposed to end, which is why need a Savior to redeem it.

Even if it’s not religious phrases that are offered, other hurtful responses to suicide are: “Did he give you any warning signs?” “Had she been depressed?” “Did she leave you a note?” “How did he kill himself?” Each of these questions imply that the surviving friend or family member may have been responsible. Guilt is the greatest burden that a loved one dealing with suicide carries. If we have been entrusted to their care in such a time of delicate vulnerability, we are remiss in adding to their pain by our careless questions.

Some questions simply don’t have answers, not on this side of Heaven. I discovered with Lilly that the most healing moments came when I would acknowledge her pain and grief, without offering explanations. Statements such as, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” or “You’re right, it is so hard to believe that this happened,” followed by the simple yet pointed reminder, “Lilly, this was not your fault. It was his choice.”

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