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What People Grieving Suicide Loss Wish You Understood

Updated: 4 days ago

Content Warning: Suicide loss, grief, death

You probably know someone who has lost a loved one to suicide.


Actually, let me say that differently. More than 42% of American adults know someone who has died by suicide. That's nearly half of us. Over 48,000 Americans die by suicide every year. That means approximately 135 people today. And by some estimates, each suicide loss profoundly affects at least 135 other people. (American Foundation for Suicide Prevention)

A single pink flower petal resting on wet gray pavement with water droplets, symbolizing tender resilience in grief

Photo: Aaron Burden/Unsplash We're not talking about a rare tragedy. We're talking about a quiet epidemic that touches almost everyone—directly or one degree removed.


And yet, we don't talk about it. Or when we do, we say unhelpful things.


So here are some truths that people grieving suicide loss hold in our hearts—truths that society hasn't made room for us to speak out loud.


The lives we lost are not worth less because of how they ended

I shouldn't have to say this, but I do.


When someone dies of cancer, we call them fighters. When someone dies in an accident, we call it tragic. When someone dies by suicide, we whisper. We hedge. We say things like "such a waste" or "what a shame" in a tone that lingers dangerously close to judgment.


Here's what I need you to know: My father's life was not diminished by his death. His love for others, his humor, his struggles, his gifts—none of that became less real because of how his story ended.


Others who have lost a loved one to suicide would tell you something similar about the person they love.


The approximately 48,800 people who died by suicide last year? They were teachers, parents, artists, workers, dreamers. They were loved. They loved. The manner of their death doesn't retroactively erase their lives and all that they contributed to ours.


The shame is society's, not ours

Let me list common phrases that some people use to describe those who die by suicide:

Cowardly.

Selfish.

Weak.

Attention-seeking.

Didn't care about their family.

Didn't care about their life.


Research confirms these stereotypes persist. Studies show people who die by suicide are commonly labeled as "selfish," "cowards," and "losers."


I mean, it's in the criminalizing language so ingrained in our society. How many times have you heard about someone "committing" suicide? I've talked about it that way, too, until I learned about the movement to change this language to "died by suicide." (Here's why language matters)


The perception of suicide stigma is directly associated with increased distress and suicidality among survivors—creating a dangerous feedback loop.


Here's what’s real: Suicide is not a character flaw. It is most often the result of a perfect storm—untreated or undertreated mental illness, trauma, isolation, chronic pain, economic despair, systemic failures, and unbearable psychic suffering that the person saw no way through.


And we all are worthy of our humanity and beingness to be valued. (Sorry, no exceptions.)


We live in a society where over 50% of adults with mental illness receive no treatment. Mental health care is underfunded, understaffed, and largely inaccessible.


Men are four times more likely to die by suicide, partly because we've taught them that asking for help is weakness.


LGBTQ+ youth are exponentially more at risk because of discrimination and lack of affirming spaces.


Economic precarity and "deaths of despair" are rising.


And yet we blame individuals for failing to survive systems that were never designed to catch them, to hold them.


The shame belongs to a society that stigmatizes suffering, underfunds care, and then judges the people who fall through the cracks.


The hypocrisy of how we talk about death

Here's something that haunts me.


When our beloved animal companions are suffering—when they have a terminal diagnosis, when their quality of life has deteriorated, when they are in unmanageable pain—some of us make the agonizing, loving choice to help them die with dignity. We call it "humane." We call it "compassionate."


We sit with them. We hold them. We thank them for their love. We release them from pain they cannot control.


And then we turn around and call humans who sought release from unbearable suffering "cowards" and "selfish." This harkens to our societal shame, too. We pretend that what they were going through was not "bad enough," when we absolutely cannot know that. Nor can we make that call for someone else.


While I'm not making an argument for or against anything here, I am pointing to a profound inconsistency in how we think about suffering and death. We have decided that animals (well, "pets" anyway) deserve release from pain, but humans who sought the same thing failed some moral test. Or strength test, for that matter.


The psychic pain that leads to suicide is real. It is neurological. It is sometimes untreatable with available resources. The person suffering from it is not a coward—they are someone who believes they ran out of solutions in a world that often doesn't provide enough of them.


Grief after suicide is different—and we deserve specialized support

Grieving suicide loss is different from other forms of grief. Research consistently shows this.


When someone dies by suicide, we're left with questions that can never be answered. Guilt that whispers "what if I had..." Anger at being left. Fear about genetic factors. Isolation because people don't know what to say. Secondary trauma from discovering the death or dealing with aftermath. Complicated relationships with the deceased that don't fit neat narratives.


And we face it in a culture that often responds with awkward silence, unhelpful advice, or outright avoidance.


I've facilitated grief support in different forms for survivors of suicide loss and served on the NC Chapter Board for AFSP. I held a free local support group for about 5 years and helped facilitate a couple of Survivor Days. I've lost my own father to suicide, and several friends since.


What I know is this: we need spaces where we can speak the unspeakable. Where we don't have to protect anyone from our reality. Where our grief isn't treated as shameful or contagious.


What we actually need to hear

Not "Everything happens for a reason." But "This shouldn't have happened, and I'm so sorry."


Not "At least they're not suffering anymore." But "Your pain about their pain is valid."


Not "You should be over it by now." But "There's no timeline for this."


Not silence. But "I don't know what to say, but I'm here."


A call to hold this differently

If you've lost someone to suicide: You are not alone. Over 42% of adults share this grief. Your person's life mattered. Your grief is not shameful. You deserve support that understands the specific landscape of this loss.


If you haven't yet, please consider this an invitation to examine the judgments you've absorbed about suicide. Notice the language you use. Make space for the survivors in your life to speak their truth without having to educate you or protect you from their reality.


And for all of us, let’s stop pretending that people are on their own when there are multiple systemic factors contributing to this public health crisis.


Let us build a world where people don't fall through the cracks. Where mental health care is accessible. Where asking for help isn't shameful. Where the systems that fail people take accountability instead of blaming individuals for not surviving them.


The people we've lost deserved better. The people still struggling deserve better. We all do.


If you're realizing that some of the beliefs you've absorbed about suicide (most of us have) haven't been helpful—and you want to do better—I recommend two things:

1) Find healthy ways to work with and heal your own shame.

2) Connect with both the respect for yourself and others when you're talking about suicide.


Get into therapy, find a coach, join a support group, find a 12-Step meeting, talk to wise elders, check out a Death Café event, get some help in managing this.


We all have shame. We don't have to carry it alone. (It's really important that we don't carry it alone, actually.)


And if you're concerned about someone or want to be aware of warning signs and how to talk about it, I love the Seize the Awkward Campaign. Really great stuff here.

More Resources If you're in crisis right now:

  • 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988 (available 24/7)

  • Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

For survivors of suicide loss:

For those who want to support someone:

For those who want to take action:

For learning more:

If you're a survivor of suicide loss and seeking specialized support, I offer the Befriend Your Grief program—three months of companioning designed specifically for those carrying this particular weight. You don't have to figure this out alone, and healing happens when we are in the company of others who truly understand. If you're not sure where you are in terms of needing support, feel free take this 5-minute assessment.

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