In the past few weeks it seems that not a day has gone by without the same
harrowing subject hitting the front page of most national newspapers. It’s
like a recurring nightmare. “Mother throws herself in front of lorry days
after having twins”, “Seven young teenagers found hanged within weeks of
each other in Bridgend”, “Tragedy of the woman who blamed herself for being
raped”. All of these cases are very different and yet have one common
denominator: all those involved took their own lives.
As you get older, you discover how precious life is. When you have a child,
you see the gift of life in its most basic form. As a parent, and in
particular, as a mother, having carried the child for nine months, this gift
is something that you nurture and treasure for ever, never thinking in your
wildest dreams that this precious thing could be taken away from you. You do
your best to keep the child safe and warm – you love unconditionally and
thank God you get the same in return.
But sometimes things do not go according to your life plan. Out of the blue,
like a lightning strike, suddenly your child leaves you. Just like that.
Paf. Everything you had ever believed in seems to disappear in a split
second. One minute they were there, talking to you, smiling – the next they
are gone. For ever. And it was their choice. No time to say goodbye.
Nothing. Just gone. Gone where? Why? Why us? What’s happening? Tell me this
isn’t true? Please tell me this isn’t happening . . . Help, please God, help
us! This is how it feels when a child commits suicide. I know because it
happened to us just over a year ago. Our beautiful, strong, funny, loving,
loyal, thoughtful 21-year-old son James suddenly, one cold December evening,
decided to leave us. He loved us so much, and knew how much he was loved,
but that was not enough to keep him here that night.
It was as if a large hand came down and took him away, and there was nothing
we could do to keep him from going. There were no warning signs to speak of.
He was not a drug user or an alcoholic. He had no history of mental illness
or depression. He did not lock himself in his room for days on end. On the
contrary, he was like an open book. Warm, sensitive, without secrets. Or so
we thought.
Ten days before James died, he had a small operation to correct a varicocele
on one of his testicles. It was a minor operation but due to the nature of
where it was, he was understandably anxious. After the operation he went
straight back to Newcastle University where he was studying, assuring me he
felt fine, and turning down offers of TLC at home.
We talked frequently during that time, as I know he also did with his father.
We tried our best to reassure him that it would take a bit of time for
things to get back to normal. That anaesthetics can make you feel a bit
down. That we could go back and see the surgeon any time if he felt worried.
What we did not know was that he had got himself into a state of extreme
anxiety and was quietly convincing himself, totally irrationally, that the
operation had been a disaster. We were unaware, until after his death, that
he had gone to an NHS walk-in clinic in Newcastle stating his anxiety and
suicidal feelings about the operation and that they had fobbed him off to A&E
as a priority 4, which is on a par with having a bad toothache.
We did not know that he was searching websites at three in the morning asking
for information on varicocelectomy procedures, or that he was calling the
surgeon constantly to get reassurance, but getting nowhere.
The last 24 hours of James’s life were spent at home with his family who were
the centre of his existence, surrounded by both sets of parents, brothers
and sisters, cousins and uncles. He was subdued and I was keeping an eye on
him. I had rung our GP with my concerns, but had no idea what was about to
unfold. You don’t go there, do you? You don’t think, “Is he about to kill
himself?” Something so dark, so horrendous just doesn’t enter your mind.
And then it happened, and our world fell apart. The rest is history. The past
year, a living hell. Each day, a living nightmare. And so it continues,
trying to be normal, yet feeling detached in a bubble, going through the
motions. Not really knowing which day of the week it is any more. It doesn’t
really matter anyway. Feeling like a failure – I was his mother, I should
have saved him.
I will never know what exactly tipped him over the edge. I know the operation
was clearly troubling him, but it was solvable. With time it would be all
right. But something made him believe he had to go – there was an urgency as
if this was the only way to escape from this torment in his head that
fateful night.
I remember trying to convince myself it had been an accident. I just could not
tolerate the thought that my boy had done what he had done. It was heinous.
I swung between rage and utter desperation. I had a pain in my heart so
intense, I thought it would explode. I could find no peace, no solace and at
night I clung onto his childhood toy, a raccoon, and Crystal Palace scarf as
if I was clinging on for dear life.
But out of this chaos has to come survival. There are other children to think
of and love. There are grandparents who are suffering too, cousins who miss
him dearly, friends who keep in touch. You feel you can’t fall to pieces. So
what to do to survive? With the help of friends and loved ones, you start to
walk again, slowly. You meet other mothers who have been through similar
situations and they give you immense strength. They are gentle, gracious,
kind and their tragedy makes you feel vaguely normal again.
And when you hear of other people’s suffering, you want to reach out and help
them. You want to hold their hand through the terror and disbelief that
suicide leaves in its wake. You want to understand more, and slowly you
discover that this “disease” is not so rare after all. That suicide is the
highest killer of young men in this country.
But why didn’t we know this? Yes, suicide has a stigma to it – a car accident
is much easier to comprehend, perhaps, but it is suicide that is killing
more young men every year than car accidents, so surely something has to be
done to stop this. Now.
So we, James’s father Nick, and I, have set up a fund, the James
Wentworth-Stanley Memorial Fund, primarily aimed to raise awareness of these
harsh, raw facts and to try to prevent this terrible statistic from getting
any worse. This involves making parents aware of the danger signals; working
to ban the evil websites that encourage taking your own life; urging schools
to talk openly about depression/suicide just as they do in lectures on sex
or drugs; making helplines easily accessible and available to young people
in distress; campaigning for reforms in the health service so that patients
who are mentally ill are treated with the same urgency and respect as those
with physical illness; and generally removing the taboo attached to mental
illness. We feel strongly that, after what we have been through, no family
is immune to this problem.
Suicidal thoughts put into action are either fatal or near fatal. There is no
grey area. If, as a young man or woman, you walk into a hospital saying you
feel suicidal, this should be viewed as a life-threatening condition. You
should not be asked to join a queue for four hours in A&E. To admit to
feeling that down, you are clearly distressed and at the end of your tether.
You need help then and there.
For us as parents, anything that can be achieved to prevent other families
going through what we have been through will be a huge positive. When I
piece together the jigsaw of James’s last few days, there were moments when,
if only the right person had been informed, his life could have taken a very
different turn. If only this, if only that. Words that go around and around
my head like a Catherine wheel, day in, day out.
Recently I was in Argentina talking to a mother who had lost her daughter,
aged three, to meningitis. We compared our grief and our loss, but when I
referred to James’s death I kept saying: “Why? Why?” She turned to me
quietly and said: “Clare, you must stop asking ‘Porque?’ [Why?] Instead, you
must ask, ‘Para que?’ [For what?]” Maybe now we have the answer.
A fitting memorial
Until her son’s suicide, Clare Milford Haven seemed to live a charmed life.
Married to the Marquess of Milford Haven, she had just finished an
eight-year stint as social editor of Tatler and was looking forward to
spending more time at home with her family. From her first marriage to Nick
Wentworth-Stanley she had three children: James, 21, Harry, now 18, and
Louisa, now 14. On December 15, 2006, at the Wentworth-Stanley home in
Worcestershire, where the family had gathered before Christmas, James shot
himself. Eight hundred people attended his memorial. His parents are setting
up a foundation to tackle the high incidence of suicide in young Britons.
Donations, please, to: The James Wentworth-Stanley Memorial Fund, c/o
Withers (Solicitors), 16 Old Bailey, London EC4M 7EG. See www.jwsmf.org
On February 15, 2009, my son, Matthew Ghinger age 24 took his life by hanging himself in my garage. I am so grieved and do not know why he's done this. He did not leave a note but he did lock himself up in his room for hours. I miss him terribly.
Nellie Ghinger, Powder Springs, GA, USA
My son was a college student, bright, in love with life. He began studying philosophy with a Professor at the college that taught Indirect Suicide Classes Torture and Death. I am told he took his own life, but find others knew what he was going to do and did nothing to stop it, feel that it is OK
Wanda, Saratoga, USA
I have read the comments and feel terrible for this young boys suicide but I think the real message here is that suicide can occur without obvious warning. My son shot himself and was not a drug or alcohol abuser and had no known history of depression. Our family is suffering and devastated.
Janis Verderose, saratoga springs, new york, USA
My thoughts are with you Nick and Clare, James was such a beautiful little boy, as I only knew him as a 7 year old. I have such strong and wonderful memories of him and Harry and would like to say I will always have great memories of you all. I will always have strong and special memories of James.
katy douglas, Brisbane, Australia
I am very sorry for your loss but your son is perhaps one of the sad few who may have suffered from Chronic Prostatitis or Epididimytis and may have gone to websites where men post their stories about their suffering. These men have received little attention from the medical community and languish in pain for years and years. This may have been a reason why your son took his life as it is not uncommon for men who have been suffering in relentless and unfathomalbe pain in their genitals to surrender and commit suicide. The bottome line is when a man is complaining about pain which is rooted at the very center of his manhood; IT SHOULD BE TAKEN VERY VERY SERIOUSLY. Open dialouge about sexual health issues should be welcomed and could possibly prevent tragedies like the one above. Chronic Pelvic Pain Syndrome in males is not taken seriously by the medical community. Perhaps this is a wake up call that someone should take pelvic pain very very seriously...
Guy, New York, NY
I'm surprised that there is not more serious interest and concern about the root causes of the increase in suicides over the past few decades. Parents, psychologists— why do you think that the youth of today have no problem at all with killing themselves over trivial matters? It has a lot to do with how the world has evolved over the past 40 years. I have been on the verge of suicide several times during my transition from teens to twenties; depression was a constant. One thing is sure: if it were up to a doctor to save me, I'd be gone. I had to get through it all with a combination of my own will & God's influence. I wouldn't have dreamed of telling my mother what was going on. When you're fantasizing of suicide, consider the reaction of your loved ones to your act of unfathomable cowardice. Consider people who meet lives of suffering with resolve & courage, and then consider those whose selfish suicide brings sorrow to the ones who love them most. Such thoughts can save lives.
Gregory, houston, tx
Roberts's comments from Bolton represent an all too common naive and somewhat harsh misunderstanding of the suicidal young male. They invariably do not feel comfortable with sharing these inner thoughts and commonly leave families stunned by their chioces. It is for this very reason that websites such as the one set up in honour of James are a vital resource for young people.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Helen Engelke, Long Beach , CA USA
Precisely. I agree wholeheartedly that a large part of the problem of youth suicide--although certainly not all of it--is the misuse of the confidentiality laws and the misguided, almost idiotic reluctance of mental health workers to share information about the suicidal status of young adult offsprint. Here in the U.S., the same issues have emerged as in the UK, as reflected in this article. Only here, they are, if anything, far worse. My precious 20 year old daughter took her own life a little less than a year ago. In her case, she was, only briefly, mentally ill, seriously depressed, and in fact suicidal. But the mental health establishment nonetheless allowed her, in her desperate state, to deprive me, her custodial mum, of contact with them, since she was an "adult." In fact, I am a psychologist, and I know that very depressed people become hostile to their loved ones. The mental health establishment "allowed" her to make up her own mind about taking her life. Much needs to change.
Dr. Mo Therese Hannah, Latham, New York, U.S.A.
Robert, Bolton - What possible reason could you have, for making such a callous statement, did you read all of the article? Shame on you for a complete lack of compassion.
Our family were recently devastated by the loss of a loved son, brother, grandson, nephew, friend, at the age of 21. The medical professionals that he came into contact with in the last 48 hrs of his life, were criminally inept. The issue of confidentiality must be reconsidered in certain cases. Our boy needed a team effort to get him well, we were excluded from proceedings by those who did evidently did NOT know better.
Young people particularly, often seek help from those who are supposed to have the expertise to spot danger signs, but are let down - with dreadful consequences.
I feel so sorry for all of those left bewildered by their loss, and feeling that they could have done more. Much more time, effort and resource is desperately needed to stem this tide.
Fiona, keep fighting for inclusion.
Dee, Brighton, East Sussex
At the end of the day it's not about websites or any of the other things you talk about. It's about relationships. Why was it that when he had this worry he didn't feel he could go to his mother and talk about it and get a sympathetic and informed response that would put him at ease?
Robert, Bolton,, Lancashire.
As a parent of a child with a chronic condition I feel that many children are being let down through the inability of health professionals to include and respect parents/family members.
Patient confidentiality ( while obviously being necessary to an extent) closes vital doors and lines of communication, when, not only do most parents know their child well but they may know things relevant to their current situation.
Once they reach 18, because the law says that they are independant they are made to feel that they have to deal with things on their own. Many young adults are not emotionally mature enough to cope with certain things but are not going to admit to it if they feel that they should be. They become self concious and diffident about requiring the support of their parents. If the doctors/councillors positively encouraged the inclusion and support of parents instead of actively shutting them out then problems and ghastly tragedys like James' might be avoided. Lots more to say
Fiona Evans, London, England