September is National Suicide Prevention Month and suicide has been on my mind all month. Over the years, I have lost at least ten loved ones, friends and family to suicide. As a result, for more than six decades suicide has been haunting me and occupying my own mind. The most impactful loss occurred in 1964 on Labor Day, when I was 10 years old.
My grandmother lived with us and was my caretaker. It was early in the morning when I entered her bedroom to ask if I could go to a friend’s house. My grandmother looked like she was sleeping in one of the two single beds pushed together. She didn’t answer me. With a child’s intuition, I felt something was terribly wrong, so I ran to the pink dial phone in my parents’ room up the hall and called them at work. Before I knew it, my parents arrived home, ran up the stairs to my grandmother’s bedroom on the second floor beside mine. Following them were two paramedics.
I am an only child of European immigrants who owned a dry goods store in Brooklyn, New York. They worked very long hours. Years after my grandmother’s passing, I learned that she who taught me how to type my first short story — had taken her life by ingesting an overdose of sleeping pills. At the time however, my mother had told me that Grandma was depressed because we’d taken our first family holiday and didn’t invite her. She never mentioned anything about having a conversation with my grandmother about her feelings or asking her if she needed help navigating feelings of depression and possibly worthlessness. Of course, in those days, the sixties, emotional discussions about feelings were not commonplace.
While kids often take things in stride, looking back I realize that being the one who’d found Grandma after she’d killed herself was frightening, and became an obsession for the rest of my life. What was more daunting is that I wasn’t allowed to mourn like the adults did. My parents sheltered me from the experience by shuttling me off to my aunt and uncle’s home while they attended to the details of my grandmother’s funeral. Back then, kids were more sheltered in these types of situations. In fact, it was thought that even a 10-year-old couldn’t understand the permanence of death.
The impact of losing my grandmother really only hit home many decades later when I was battling my own depression following my first cancer diagnosis. I wondered if I would also succumb to suicide. Studies have shown that there is a suicide gene, and I continue to be haunted by that fear. But, these things are spoken about more openly today and I know where to go for help if I need it to prevent this irreversible act.
The fact about suicide is that, according to The American Foundation of Suicide Prevention, it is the 11th highest cause of death in the United States. In 2022, nearly 50,000 Americans took their life. In addition, more than 1.6 million people attempted suicide. Sadly, 10% of youths in grades 9–12 confessed that in the past 12 months, they have made at least one suicide attempt.
The heartbreaking truth is that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recently released a report stating that suicides are increasing at an alarming rate, and as a society, we all need to become more concerned. Most often, after we hear about a suicide, the question that arises is, “Why?” While we’ll never know the exact reason why someone has chosen to take his or her life, we can speculate about the possible causes and know that suicide is usually preceded by mood disorders such as anxiety and depression.
When studying my grandmother’s life in my first memoir about her, Regina’s Closet: Finding My Grandmother’s Secret Journal, I learned that she was tormented by the demons of her childhood and being orphaned in World War I at the age of eleven. There are so many other reasons why people decide to end their lives, and they vary as much as the people committing this act. Some of the more common reasons include isolation, problems with relationships, job stressors, and illnesses.
My early experience with suicide inspired me to not only donate the book proceeds to suicide prevention organizations, but also to be mindful of others who battled depression and inspiring them to seek early assistance. Early diagnosis is crucial. There are those who view depression and anxiety as normal side effects of living, but that’s not true. Sure, we all have our ups and downs, but if you notice someone who’s struggling, it’s important to recognize the symptoms and ask if you can help. One of the best ways to be of assistance to those who are depressed is to allow them to speak their minds. They might just need someone to talk to.
What I’ve learned over the years is that it’s okay to ask a loved one if they’re contemplating suicide, and then urge them to get in touch with professionals who can help them. As John Donne said, “No man is an island.” Remember, suicide is a permanent solution to what is sometimes a temporary problem or a problem that could be troubleshooted with proper resources.
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Previously Published on Medium
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