6 Emerging Adults 165documentary aims to reduce the shame and stigma around suicide, and improve our
ability to better support the millions who live in the wake of it. http://www.Fatherlessby
Suicide.com.
Every 15 minutes someone dies by suicide, and every 16 minutes someone is
asking “why?” Unfortunately, my turn came when I was three years old when
my father died by his own hand in Kansas on the morning of September 9,
- I did not have the words to ask at that age, but the feeling of losing my
father has stayed with me. I am working to recall those feelings and honor
them more now. Ultimately, I am still asking “why,” but getting more comfort-
able with the fact I will not ever really know the answer.
Throughout my life, I have been growing into my father’s name, genet-
ics, and mannerisms, as well as an unending, unanswered series of questions
about who he was and how much of him—and his illness—I have in me. As
the saying goes, “like father, like son.” I was afraid that his life narrative would
inevitably be mine, especially when I was a teenager with synapses and emo-
tions that I had a hard time navigating.
When I was asked by the authors of this book to reflect on my own path
of growing up and into my own manhood in the absence of my father, my
mind and emotions darted back to being on the playground of my Catholic
grammar school and getting in a fight after another child told me my father
was burning in Hell because he killed himself. That moment taught me that
I needed to watch what I told people about my father, especially about how he
died. Looking back, I realize that this incident, and similar encounters where
I faced direct shaming or stigma associated to his death, illuminated to me how
judgment and vitriol could come at whiplash pace. My mom would console
me and reinforce it was not my fault. Yet, it felt like a choice between stand-
ing up for my father (and my mom and me) or avoiding the topic or skirting
around it. I often avoided it altogether. The behavior I developed in those early
years stayed strong in me until just a few years ago, when I turned older than
my father and began wanting—needing—to process his death.
Suicide, and the shame and stigma that surrounds it, has been a factor
of human existence since we have been recording it. Though we have a lot of
opportunity for growth in our society about how we discuss suicide and sup-
port those who live in the wake of it, we are light-years ahead from when my
father died. Despite these advances, suicide remains prevalent and it is the
tenth leading cause of death in the United States. Four out of five people in the
United States will lose a loved one to suicide, and odds are that they will lose
a man in their life, with men accounting for upwards of 75% of deaths docu-
mented as suicide, which experts believe is not the full story.
Though my father’s death does not define him or me, it has affected my
life’s trajectory in countless ways. Despite being unconditionally loved by a
dynamic, powerful mom, and supportive community, I grew up ashamed of
being the son of a man who took his own life. I often felt guilty, thinking that
my “terrible twos” and I were somehow to blame. Mostly, I was angry with
him for taking his life and leaving me fatherless with an avalanche of ques-
tions and sadness.