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“Why didn’t I understand his pain?” asked Marie-Noëlle Cullierat, whose 24-year-old son committed suicide after failing his pilot’s exam. She said losing her only son was like being hit by a “bomb”, and she is still struggling two years later. “You can never prepare yourself for the death of a child … but when it happens, it’s very hard not to understand why”. “Why didn’t I see it?” asked the flight navigator, who wants to break the silence over the suffering of those left behind after suicide.
“We had a very good relationship, we used to talk…” The 57-year-old told AFP, a photo of her son sits on a shelf surrounded by candles and flowers in her home in the southern French city of Marseille. Bastien dreamed of becoming an airline pilot. But he committed suicide after failing an exam. “He was stressed,” she said. Neither his mother nor Bastien’s friends ever imagined someone so “happy” would take his own life.
‘The burden of guilt’
More than 700,000 people commit suicide worldwide each year, according to the World Health Organization (WHO). For young people aged 15 to 29, suicide was the fourth most common cause of death in 2019. The WHO warned that Covid lockdowns have taken a toll on adolescents’ mental health. “In France alone, around 1.6 million children and adolescents suffer from psychological disorders,” estimated Adeline Hazan, the local head of the UN children’s agency UNICEF. “But only 750,000 to 850,000” are receiving proper treatment, she said.
In the United States, South Africa, Finland and Guyana – some of the countries most affected by youth suicide – thousands of parents are left traumatised by their child’s death each year. The WHO calls them “survivors” of suicide. “It’s an earthquake. You have to start from scratch again,” said Fabrice and Hélène de Carne, who live in Belgium and whose daughter Lou, a political science student, committed suicide in 2021.
Psychiatrist Christophe Faure said parents often find themselves alone struggling with “an enormous burden of guilt … and the hellish question of ‘Why?'” They are also at greater risk of suicide than others going through their grief, he said.
Prohibition
“It’s horrible when a child dies in hospital, but you have a team of carers around you,” said Cullierat. “When I had to go to the police station to get Bastian’s things and then find the coffin, there was no one to help me,” she said. What’s worse is that “sometimes other parents avoid you for fear of suicide,” she said. Suicide is a huge taboo subject. In fact it’s still a crime in 20 countries and was only decriminalised in Ireland in 1993.
Even in countries where prevention plans have been put in place, the stigma of the past – often religious – has left its mark. In France, as in many other countries, “there are very few medical options … and not many voluntary groups trained to help people with the grief after a suicide,” said Marie Tournigand of the French charity Empreintes.
After her daughter Lou’s death, de Carnes sought help from psychologists at work. But they were unable to help because they were specialists in burnout. She finally found help from psychiatrists at the Suicide Prevention Centre in Brussels, the capital of Belgium, who are trained to help desperate parents.
mutual support
Unable to work after her son’s suicide and on the verge of collapse herself, Cullerat finally found help from other parents who had gone through the same hell as her. A support group called La Pointe Rose (The Pink Dot) brings together parents from the south of France who have lost their children. Its founder, Nathalie Paoli, welcomed a group of them for a “family day” on the sunny terrace of her home in Cabries, north of Marseille.
Croissants and traditional orange blossom biscuits were placed on the table along with tea and coffee. A circle formed around Paoli, 55, whose daughter Carla-Marie died of leukemia when she was 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 pick yourself up again.”
Parents would shed tears as they shared their stories, but there was always a hand on the shoulder or a word of consolation. Suddenly a red hen walking next to the cats on the grass brought a smile to the parents’ faces. It was a very beautiful and emotional moment. And the next sentence was said because of this beautiful moment. You can cut something elsewhere if necessary but this moment is very much part of the sweet and repairing side of these gatherings).
“There is pain, but there is also life — here and now,” Paoli stressed. Just then, a chicken passed by Paoli’s cats lazing on the grass. Paoli said you should “appreciate the simple joys” when everyone smiled, “the passing seasons, walking, doing DIY or making pancakes … plant the seeds to improve yourself,” she urged.
talking about death
During the watercolor class, grieving parents put their pain into words with people who have gone through the same things. Others often avoid talking to them about their loss, for fear of reopening the wound. “But talking gives peace of mind,” said Fabrice de Carne. “So friends who raise the subject directly help us.” “Talking about the dead should not be scary. We have to change the culture,” pleaded Cullierat, who recalled an evening spent exchanging memories of Bastien with her son’s friends.
“It was fun and joyful,” she said. “Grief can be like that too.” “When we talk about heatwaves it doesn’t mean reliving old painful memories,” Helene de Carne said. “It’s also about how we can rebuild ourselves, how suicide prevention is now the center of our lives.” She and her husband are telling people about a French emergency helpline for people considering suicide. Cullierat wants to take the message to schools and universities. “If I can prevent others from doing what Bastien did, it will make me get out of bed in the morning,” she said.
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