Parents who lose a child to suicide

“Why didn’t I notice his pain?” asked Marie-Noelle Cullieret, whose 24-year-old son committed suicide after failing his flying test.

The loss of her only son felt like a “bombshell,” she says, and she still struggles with it two years later.

“You can never prepare for the death of a child… But when it does happen, it’s the misunderstanding, the why” that is so difficult.

“Why didn’t I see it?” asked the flight navigator, who wants to break the silence about the suffering of those left behind and pick up the thread again after a suicide.

“We had a nice relationship, we talked…” the 57-year-old told AFP.

A photo of her son, surrounded by candles and flowers, sits on a shelf in her home in the southern French city of Marseille.

Bastien dreamed of becoming a pilot for an airline, but shortly after failing an exam, he committed suicide.

“He was stressed,” she said.

Neither his mother nor Bastien’s friends could ever have imagined that someone so ‘cheerful’ would commit suicide.

‘Gravity of guilt’

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), more than 700,000 people commit suicide worldwide each year.

Among young people aged 15 to 29, suicide was the fourth leading cause of death in 2019. COVID lockdowns have since taken a toll on teens’ mental health, the WHO warned.

“In France alone, some 1.6 million children and teenagers suffer from mental disorders,” estimated Adeline Hazan, the resident head of UNICEF, the UN children’s agency. “But only 750,000 to 850,000” receive appropriate treatment, she said.

In the United States, South Africa, Finland and Guyana, some of the countries hardest hit by youth suicide, thousands of parents are shocked by the death of their child each year.

The WHO calls them the ‘survivors’ of suicide.

“It’s an earthquake. You have to start all over again,” said Fabrice and Helene de Carne from Belgium, whose daughter Lou, a political science student, committed suicide in 2021.

Often, parents are left alone to cope with the “enormous burden of guilt… and the terrible question of ‘Why?’” says psychiatrist Christophe Faure.

They are also at greater risk of committing suicide than others who are grieving, he added.

Taboo

“When a child dies in hospital, it is terrible, but there is a team of caregivers around you,” Cullieret said.

“There was no one to help me when I had to go to the police station to collect Bastien’s things and then look for a coffin,” she said.

To make matters worse, “sometimes other parents avoid you because they fear suicide,” she added.

Suicide remains a huge taboo. It is still a crime in 20 countries and was only decriminalised in Ireland in 1993.

Even in countries where prevention plans have been implemented, old stigmas – often religious in nature – have left their mark.

In France, as in many other countries, “there are very few therapy options… and not many volunteer groups trained to help people cope with grief after a suicide,” said Marie Tournigand of the French charity Empreintes.

After the death of their daughter Lou, the Carnes sought help from psychologists at work. But as specialists in burnout, they could not help.

They were eventually hired by psychiatrists from the Center for Suicide Prevention in the Belgian capital Brussels, who are trained to help parents who are in shock.

Mutual support

Cullieret was unable to work after her son committed suicide and nearly went over the edge herself. Eventually, she found help from other parents who had been through hell like hers.

A support group called La Point Rose (The Pink Dot) brings together parents from the south of France who have lost a child.

Founder Nathalie Paoli welcomed a group of them for a ‘family day’ on the sunny terrace of her house in Cabries, north of Marseille.

Croissants and traditional orange flower cookies were laid out on tables with tea and coffee. A circle formed around Paoli, 55, whose daughter Carla-Marie died of leukemia at the age of eight.

“The first year you have to accept that you can’t control anything,” she said. “Often the second year is even harder because people are less understanding, they think you have to have the courage to get yourself back on your feet.”

Tears flowed as the parents shared their stories, but there was always a hand on a shoulder or a word of comfort.

“The pain is there, but so is life, here and now,” Paoli insisted.

At that moment a chicken walked past Paoli’s cats who were lazing on the grass.

“You have to appreciate the simple pleasures,” Paoli added as everyone laughed, “the passing seasons, walking, doing odd jobs or making pancakes… Plant the seeds to repair yourself,” she urged.

Talking about death

During a watercolor course, grieving parents can express their grief with people who have experienced the same thing.

Others often avoid talking to them about their loss, for fear of reopening the wound. “But talking is healing,” said Fabrice de Carne. “So friends who bring up the subject in a direct way help us.”

“It shouldn’t be scary to talk about the dead. We have to change the culture,” Cullieret pleaded, fondly recalling an evening with her son’s friends where they shared memories of Bastien.

“It was funny and happy,” she said. “Grief can be that too.”

“When we talk about Lou, it’s not about dredging up old, painful memories,” Helene de Carne said. “It’s also about how we can rebuild ourselves, how suicide prevention is now central to our lives.”

Together with her husband, she is trying to draw attention to the French emergency hotline for people with suicidal thoughts.

Cullieret wants to take the message to schools and universities. “I get out of bed in the morning if I can stop others from doing what Bastien did,” she said.

A list of international child helplines can be found here

© 2024 AFP