Dancing Salamanders

Losing a Child to Suicide

10 July 20245 min read

There are no words in any language that are big enough for what you are carrying. We know this, because we carry it too.

This piece is written for parents who have lost a child to suicide. Not because we can explain it or make it more bearable through the right words, but because we want you to know that there are people who understand — who don't look away, who don't need you to soften it.

The Grief That Has No Bottom

Most of us who have lost a child describe it as a grief that has no bottom. Other grief is heavy. This is different. It overturns the natural order of things — parents are not supposed to outlive their children. That wrongness doesn't go away. You don't "accept" it in the usual sense of the word. You learn, slowly and with great difficulty, to exist alongside it.

The fact that the death was by suicide adds an extra layer. The questions are different. The guilt can feel unbearable. And the social response is often more muted, more awkward, than it would be for other kinds of loss. You may find yourself navigating both the immensity of your grief and the inadequacy of what others around you know how to give.

Both are real, and both are unjust.

The Particular Guilt of a Parent

Almost all bereaved parents carry guilt. It is one of the characteristics of this grief that distinguishes it from almost all others. The questions come in waves: did I miss something? Did I do enough? Should I have pushed harder, listened differently, intervened sooner?

We want to say this directly, even knowing how long it takes to be even slightly believed: you are not responsible for your child's death.

Suicide is never caused by one person or one relationship or one moment. It arises from a complexity of suffering, mental illness, and inner darkness that is rarely fully visible to even the closest people — and that nobody else could simply have removed. Your child loved you. The illness was not a measure of the love, in either direction.

The guilt is real. The guilt is a part of the grief. But a feeling is not a verdict, and carrying the weight of it is not the same as being responsible for the outcome.

What Happened to the Future

One of the things that makes this grief so particular is that it isn't only about the past. You grieve the person your child was. And you grieve the person they were becoming. The future you held for them — which was also, in ways that are hard to separate, part of your own future — is gone.

First days of things they'll never have. Their children, if they would have had children. Conversations you would have had in twenty years. The ways they would have surprised you.

There is no shortcut through this. It is enormous. And it is allowed to be enormous.

The People Who Don't Know What to Say

Grief after suicide often receives a different social response than other kinds of loss. People don't know what to say. Some say the wrong things. Some say nothing at all, which is often worse. Some ask questions that feel invasive or that put the burden on you to explain or reassure.

You owe nobody an explanation of how your child died, or what you did or didn't do. You are allowed to have a simple sentence ready and use it whenever you need to. You are allowed to leave a room. You are allowed to tell someone directly that what they just said wasn't helpful.

Your grief doesn't exist to make other people comfortable.

If You Have Other Children

If you have other children, you are navigating something extraordinarily difficult: your own grief and theirs at the same time, while trying to remain present for them in ways you may not feel capable of.

You don't need to be whole to be present. Your children don't need you to be undamaged. They need you to be honest, and to let them see that grief is something you carry together. Your surviving children are grieving too — and one of the things they may most need is for you to let them know that their grief is seen and that it isn't their fault either.

Be as gentle with yourself in this as you would be with them.

You Are Allowed to Still Be Here

We want to say this because some bereaved parents need to hear it: you are allowed to still be alive. You are allowed to eventually feel something other than this. Not instead of the grief — but alongside it. You are allowed to laugh again, to find something beautiful, to make plans.

This is not a betrayal. It is survival. And your child, who loved you, would not have wanted otherwise.


Support right now:

  • Mind Självmordslinjen (Sweden): Call 90101 or chat at mind.se — open around the clock, anonymous and free
  • 1177 — healthcare advice around the clock
  • Emergency: 112
  • Sad Dads Club: saddadsclub.org — for bereaved fathers
  • The Compassionate Friends (UK): tcf.org.uk
  • International Association for Suicide Prevention: iasp.info