There were two phrases that Amelia Wrighton found unhelpful after her mum died by suicide. ‘Time is a great healer’ and ‘At least she’s not in pain any more…’ Both sentiments she could do without hearing.
Then there were the insensitive, thoughtless comments, Amelia, 32, tells Metro. ‘The number of times people say “Oh God, I would have killed myself!“. It just happens all the time.’
While she knew that most were accidental or came from a well-meaning place, the Londoner began to dread any conversations about her family. She’d fear questions about her parents on first dates, and any discussion about Mother’s Day felt tense and uncomfortable.
To cope, she taught herself to avoid certain situations and made sure she didn’t talk about her mum, Cindy, with new people.
Amelia was 19 and studying at university in Paris, when her mother ended her life in 2011. She received the news from her dad when he unexpectedly appeared on campus one day.
‘As soon as I saw him, I immediately knew something was wrong. I remember he couldn’t get any words out, and I was shouting at him, “Is grandma dead?”’ she explains. When Amelia found out the truth, she recalls falling to the ground, but not much else after.
‘I don’t remember the next 24 hours. It was shock and adrenaline,’ she adds.
An only child, Amelia returned to England for the funeral with her father, who was divorced from Cindy. The following weeks continued to be a blur, she says, but Amelia does remember reading her mother’s suicide notes and a big binder of her medical notes.
She soon discovered that Cindy, who suffered from bipolar disorder and some other health issues, had made an attempt on her life four years before, but that the family had been sworn to secrecy.
‘That was difficult. I felt like I’d been living a bit of a lie,’ admits Amelia. ’You look back at every scenario, going, “Were you happy that birthday or were you depressed and thinking about how you were going to die?”
‘My body had a physical reaction and I was sick all the time. I had awful nightmares and couldn’t sleep properly at all. My brain was total mush.’
Worried she would fail her university term, Amelia went back to France after just three weeks and developed coping methods – some healthy, some less so.
Six months later, Amelia was told by a hairdresser that she had bald patches at the back of her head, and a doctor diagnosed alopecia. ’They asked me if I had had any stress, and I said “no”. To me, stress meant money problems or exam struggles. It meant something completely different because I hadn’t learnt about the way grief can affect people,’ she explains.
‘But I had this darkness when I was alone. I would cry for a few hours every day. Being only 19, I just thought that that was my new normal. When I was with people I would being okay and be civil, although sometimes I would get a bit too drunk and emotional. I assumed my core was always going to be very sad and heavy because I’d always miss my mum.
‘I found the concept of suicide so confusing and I was terrified of feeling that dark myself.’
The impact of suicide
Maria Bailey, who runs a national social enterprise supporting people with loss called Grief Specialists, explains that people bereaved by the sudden death of a friend or family member are 65% more likely to attempt suicide if the deceased died that way.
‘Suicide bereavement has complex layers, such as guilt. People may ask themselves; How didn’t I see this coming? Why couldn’t I stop it? And there could be feelings of judgement from others,’ she says.
‘There is also a stigma around this kind of loss. It can feel very lonely, like nobody understands. Not everyone leaves a note, which means the bereaved might be left without understanding the reasons. There might be a total shock, even more so if they have to identify the body. If you are dealing with such a huge loss, I would always recommend professional support, whether that’s counselling, a grief programme, or other support organisations.’
Amelia had a breakthrough 18 months later when a friend’s mum suggested therapy. Taking her advice, she began counselling which helped her realise it was possible to heal and process the trauma of not only realising that her mum was gone, but there was a side of her she knew very little about.
However, the truth was Amelia was still compartmentalising her grief due to the stigma around suicide. This was until 2019, when she met a young woman called Emma through her media and marketing job, who’d lost her dad the same way.
’It wasn’t something I spoke about, but over a glass of wine, Emma noticed me avoiding the same things that she avoided. I talked about my dad a lot but didn’t say anything about my mum. Emma just asked me outright: “Did you lose your mum to suicide?” And I was like, “Oh my God, yes.”
The pair decided they wanted to help others going through the same thing and in July 2020 launched the charity Suicide&Co, to offers free support from specialist counsellors to those bereaved by suicide.
6,000 people take their own lives each year in the UK, which means that 36,000 people are bereaved by suicide*, as around six people are significantly affected by each loss.
‘I still can’t answer my phone after losing my partner to suicide’
Yasmin Shaheen-Zaffar, 53, lost her partner to suicide in 2016, here she tells Metro the impact his loss had on her.
‘I loved Adam* very much but we weren’t married and he wasn’t the biological father to my daughter, so I always felt that I didn’t have the right to be bereaved when he died by suicide 19 years ago.
We were together for two years but people told me I came in too late in his life for a chapter that was already written.
They said it wasn’t a matter of if he would take his one life, but when.
He had mental health challenges. I thought love conquered everything, that it would be enough. I guess I was naive.
I received the news by phone; I still can’t answer my mobile today if I don’t know the number. He tried everything to help himself, but some people don’t make it. He was 34 when he died.
The early stages of grief sent me delirious; I could see him in my apartment after he’d died. I wanted to end my own life at the time, but I had a two-year-old to stay sane for and take care of. If I didn’t have my daughter I would have gone with him. I didn’t want to die but didn’t want to be here anymore. I wanted to be away from everything and everybody; I wanted to be left alone.
Adam and I had both wanted to go and see the Northern Lights so I took my daughter and drove to Sweden. I don’t know how I managed to drive across Europe, but that’s what saved my sanity. I just left everything. I’d planned to go for a few weeks but I soon realised I couldn’t come back so I stayed for more than five years, setting up a business.
In Scandinavia, people are very reserved and respectful, and I couldn’t speak the language, so it gave me the space to heal. Nobody knew me, no one was going to ask anything, say anything about it or give me that look. It helped me survive. Then one day it was minus 30 or something, and I was at the petrol station putting petrol in, shaking and frowning and I just thought – it’s time to go back – and went home.
I now work as a trauma therapist working with neurodivergent people and I support neurodivergent parents and young people build better bonds and communicate better. Instead of taking my life, I built a life. They call it post-traumatic growth.’
*Name has been changed
Research has found that these survivors are more likely to think about suicide, which is why Amelia, Emma and their team built up a community that provides specialist support via phone, email and an app. They’ve also just released a film by Will Castle to shine a light on how it can feel after a loved one has taken their own life, exploring the complexities of suicide-related grief and the generational impact.
‘Our mission is to help people build back a life around their grief by suicide,’ Amelia explains. ‘A lot of people don’t think this is possible – but it is.
‘I am living proof of this. When people get the support they need to navigate this awful grief they can build a life full of joy again.
‘Suicide rates have gone up for the first time in two decades – that’s not the right direction. We need more tailored interventions and systemic change, such as more community confidence in conversations around suicide and loss and better signposting, to start getting those numbers down and getting people who are going through something awful to rebuild their lives.
‘I now use my energy and grief to drive Suicide&Co forward. I know my mum would be really proud of our work, and she’d love that we’re helping so many people.
‘Grief isn’t linear, and there are challenges daily, monthly and at other points in our lives, but having access to support makes the burden a little easier to carry.’
To contact Suicide & Co, you can email [email protected]
*Cerel and Sanford
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