The Weight We Carry: A Mother’s Journey After Suicide

When we talk about the loss of a loved one, we share stories, remember the moments that made them special, and find comfort in keeping their memory alive. We also talk about grief and the many stages we go through along our journey. But when a parent loses a child to suicide, grief is rarely the only burden they carry. Alongside the sorrow comes guilt – quiet, persistent, and relentless. It whispers questions that have no answers, re-plays moments that cannot be changed, and leaves a family searching for meaning in a loss that will never make sense.  

I know this all too well. In August 2018, I lost my son, Ryan, to suicide. He was 16 years old and had so much ahead of him. He was full of kindness, he had incredible dreams, he loved to laugh, and he loved to love. What I didn’t realize was that he was quietly carrying a pain far deeper than I could see.  

Before my loss, I understood that suicide existed. Like many people, I knew families who had experienced loss, and I heard statistics and stories shared in the news. It was not until suicide affected my own family that I fully understood the ripple effects it leaves behind. Suicide does not impact just one life; it changes families, friendships, communities, and futures.   

After Ryan died, many people reached out with love and support, and they reminded me that I was not to blame. I wanted to believe them, but a mother’s heart does not always listen to reason when it is searching for answers. From the moment our children are born, we are wired to watch over them, guide them, and help them through life’s struggles. When a child dies by suicide, mothers are left carrying the painful belief that they somehow failed in a responsibility that mattered most.  

What I have learned over time is that the healing journey does not necessarily come from eliminating guilt altogether, it comes from learning how to carry it differently and showing ourselves some of the same compassion we would offer another grieving parent. It comes from recognizing that we loved deeply, did the best we could with what we knew at the time, and that hindsight can create expectations no human being could ever meet.  

The reality is that suicide is complex. Mental health challenges, emotional pain, life circumstances, biological factors, and countless unseen struggles can intersect in ways that family members may never fully understand.   

I still miss Ryan every day. The grief has not disappeared, nor has the guilt. But I have learned that guilt is not proof that I failed him. It is evidence of how fiercely I loved him.   

Ryan’s story did not end when he left this world. His love continues, and so does the impact he has on his friends and family.  

While this loss is part of my story, my support for Suicide Awareness Month is rooted in a broader hope: that more people feel comfortable talking about mental health, seeking help when they need it, and supporting others without judgment. Check on the ones you love, remind them that seeking help is okay, and let them know their life matters. Small actions can have a large and meaningful impact, and sometimes a single conversation can make all the difference.   

If sharing my story helps even one person feel less alone, start one important conversation, or encourage someone to seek help, then I have already made a difference.