Hello and welcome to this supportive community, launched on 29 April 2003, for those who have suffered the tragic and indescribably painful loss of a child to suicide.
If you have found this site following the death of your child, grandchild or sibling to suicide, then first let me offer my sincerest and heartfelt condolences. Platitudes mean very little at this time from people who can't really relate to your grief, but everyone who has a need to visit this site is bound by the same tragedy of the death of a child they loved to suicide.
Whilst nothing that anyone says can bring your child back to you, knowing that you are not alone and being able to share your innermost thoughts and feelings without being judged, can be enormously beneficial in the lifelong grieving process.
Many well-meaning people will come out with clichés such as, "Time will heal", but the healing and the grieving will last a lifetime and is not something, as some people falsely believe, that you will ever "get over". In time you may come to reconcile yourself to its reality, however painful and impossible that may seem. Joining hands with others who can empathise with your pain will hopefully help you ease you way through the excruciatingly painful and difficult days, weeks and years ahead.
When my son died on 1 November 2002 after an intentional Heroin overdose on 31 October 2002, I didn't believe that I would survive. Yet here I am, several months further on, knowing that I have to do something positive as a result of his tragic suicide. I cannot do anything to bring my son back to me, but I can do something for those who are still alive - my other children, my partner and all those desperate, sad and isolated people out there who are reaching out for help but don't know where to go.
I hope that you find some solace and support within these pages and will use it as a place to remember and pay tribute to your beautiful child.
I know that my pain is a tribute to my son, a sign that I have vivid memories of him. He was not perfect and I do not want to have only memories of his best qualities. I want my many memories of him to condense into an accurate portrait of the personality that he was, an image that will be perfectly maintained until the day I die. I want to preserve his memory like a precious piece of artwork, a masterpiece that depicts this beautiful, clever, naïve, vulnerable, compassionate, impulsive, forgiving, cheerful, but deeply troubled boy, a sensitive, caring soul who was too gentle for this harsh world.
Jan Andersen
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love,
the things you are, the things you never want to lose.
Excerpts from Chapter Four - Trapped in an Agonising Storm of Emotions
"Even though I was emotionally shattered, sleep evaded me for the first few nights. I sobbed, screamed and howled like a wild animal caught in a poacher's trap, finding solace in nothing. In between open displays of unyielding anguish, I frantically searched for folders of Kristian's old schoolwork, as though anything that he had once created in life was the most valuable object on earth. In fact, anything that Kristian had made, touched or worn became priceless to me."
"They didn't know about the times where the pain was so excruciating that I would shut myself away, curl up into a ball and sob and scream until my entire body ached, as though I had been beaten relentlessly. Rather than feeling as though I was releasing my grief, it seemed to be trapped within me, swirling around violently like a tornado of emotions, consuming me and threatening to spit me back out in a thousand pieces that couldn't be put back together again. I knew that if anybody witnessed me in those moments, it would be frightening."
"Between the dark periods of intense teenage stroppiness, secrecy and displays of fierce independence, his charm and open affection shone vibrantly and won the hearts of all those with whom he interacted in those brighter moments. He cried easily and never tried to hide his sensitivity behind that all-so-familiar macho exterior like so many other young lads. I regarded these open displays of emotion as a sign of strength, not weakness."
Excerpt from Chasing Death - Losing a Child to Suicide by Jan Andersen
