Families cope with loss of loved ones

Aug. 06--At least five people have committed suicide in Ashtabula County in the last two weeks.

At 16 suicide deaths so far this year -- some yet to be officially ruled on by the county coroner -- the county has almost surpassed the total number of suicides in all of 2016.

The number of suicides just in the first three quarters of 2017 -- which have occurred in waves -- is alarming and unusual, Rich Mongell, chief coroner's investigator,said, considering most suicides in the county tend to occur through the holiday season.

From 2000 to 2015, about 20,000 people completed suicide in the state -- three times as many killed by homicide, according to the Columbus Dispatch. And in Ashtabula County, the per capita suicide rate has remained above the national average most of that period.

In 2014, Ashtabula County had the sixth-highest suicide rate in the state, among counties with more than 10 reported cases that year, according to Ohio Department of Health statistics.

Those numbers don't precisely correlate to county residents, however, Mongell said, because as many as half could have been out-of-county residents who died in the county.

Several Ashtabula County suicides reported this year occurred in public places.

In March, an elderly man killed himself by lighting his vehicle on fire in front of Lenox Community Center -- one of at least five suicides that month alone. In late June, a woman killed herself in Orwell Community Park.

Late last month, a 19-year-old woman stepped in front of a train near the West 32nd Street railroad crossing in Ashtabula. On Monday morning, Ashtabula police reported a 19-year-old man hung himself near the lift bridge in the harbor.

From 2012 to 2014, 187 Ohio residents aged 10 to 24 died by suicide, according to ODH. More than 40 percent had been diagnosed with a mental illness, and about 25 percent were depressed or in mental health treatment.

On Tuesday alone, area first responders took at least four calls relating to suicidal thoughts or threats.

Mongell, a former Madison Township detective, said the response is different each time, but they all start with simply talking to the at-risk person and learning how they got to that point -- "whether it's financial, whether it's relationships, whether they are on drugs and they can't get off," he said.

Often, those calls are a literal plea for help, he said -- "they want to do it, but they also want to survive."

"A lot of them think their life is worthless, then you've got to try to explain to them nobody's life is worthless -- all life is precious, including theirs," he said.

Heartbeat

Talking openly about suicidal thoughts or the death of a loved one by suicide is difficult and often stigmatized by society, said Matt Butler, clinical supervisor at Community Counseling Center in Ashtabula Township.

But that's just what the suicide bereavement group Heartbeat does every first Thursday of the month at the center. Butler said it's important to normalize the tragedy of suicide, and have conversations "out in the light and in public."

Surviving parents, relatives, spouses or friends face self-blame, "survivor guilt" or endless questions -- why it happened, or what they could have done differently, Butler said.

"Typically it is something where there are many things leading up to it," he said. "The fact is it is one person's decision. We don't always know all the factors that go into that decision.

"That question of 'why' is something that can haunt people for a lifetime. We're never going to get a final answer to it."

Butler, one of several professionals in the county who respond to suicides to console and assist family members, said recent reviews by the American Association of Suicidology estimate 118 people are affected by each suicide -- about 40 of whom need some sort of outreach.

But those area residents left behind after suicide don't come to center's group to be healed. They come to the center to heal each other, Butler said.

Finding hope

in support

Thursday was Jackie's first night with the group, after her husband killed himself two months ago. She said he had dealt with depression for most of his life, since his father died when he was 10 years old.

Compounding her tragedy were Facebook posts reporting his death, made almost immediately after it happened.

"I didn't have time to contact the family members," she said.

Butler said social media can be a tool for good or ill -- "sometimes, people have a tendency to think 'this is news.' ... When to a family, it's a tragedy and a life-changing event."

Cheryl lost her daughters Pauline and Cathy to suicide. She said she avoided the group for some time, but when she began attending, she brought unhealthy anger and blame with her -- things she said she learned to quell by communing with other Heartbeat members.

"I'm not angry like I was and I'm not blaming anyone. ... I learned that here from everyone," she said. "You have to put the blame where the blame belongs."

She said she loves her daughters and "it still breaks my heart," she said.

One of Cheryl's daughters struggled with anxiety for much of her life, which she said she feels made her marriage suffer -- "she felt she was dragging her husband into this unhealthy situation. They were very much in love," she said.

The other fought a drug addiction she kept hidden for years and bounced in and out of recovery.

Sixteen percent of all suicide victims in the state in 2012 had a diagnosed substance abuse issue, according to ODH toxicology reports. Alcohol was the drug most-reported in suicide deaths that year, followed by antidepressants and opiates.

Alcohol was reported in almost one-third of suicide victims aged 25 and older between 2012 and 2014, while opiates were found in 19 percent.

Joyce lost her 40-year-old son Norm nine years ago, and has been attending bereavement groups regularly since then -- first in Erie, then in Ashtabula after Heartbeat was formed three years ago.

Norm, a veteran, struggled with depression and bipolar disorder, and had been rescued from three prior suicide attempts. Then he moved to Portage County for work, after a divorce.

"I do think a lot about the fact that he moved away when he shouldn't have been by himself," Joyce said, adding, "He needed the family around. We were close. I talked to him all the time.

"He knew he had this problem," she said. "He called me the week before (his death) ... says 'I've got to get a handle on this.'"

Norm planned to take time off his commercial trucking job and undergo intensive therapy at a Veterans Affairs hospital. He wanted to pursue a criminal forensics degree from Penn State University. He had money saved up to take his 7-year-old son to Disneyland.

The Tuesday after he got a prescription from a VA doctor, he didn't call like usual. Instead, Joyce was called the following morning by police to a Ravenna hospital.

"Sometimes I feel like there's a 'block' right in front of me and I just 'go on,'" Joyce said. "Sometimes, there's a big void. After going to counseling and going to suicide sessions and meetings like this, I feel like I've taken a lot in and I've grown a lot.

"There's always a lot to think about."

Some Heartbeat members make scrapbook pages dedicated to the loved ones they lost, with treasured photos or emotional messages.

The three women who shared their stories with the Star Beacon also shared a common motivator: if their experiences can help save at least one life, then something good can come of their tragedy.

Joyce said some Thursdays, she doesn't feel she's coming to Heartbeat for herself anymore -- instead for others in the group. Cheryl said she's valued the bond they've formed over the years.

"It tells me you're that many years in and you're OK," Cheryl said. "Because there are times that you don't feel (OK).

"I'll do it as long as I'm able. It helps me keep myself in a better place."

follow justin dennis on Twitter @justindennis.

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