March 18, 2015 - Six Years Later

Our son Josh, died by his own hand 6 years ago. It was a Wednesday, just like today and just like any other day. It is 7am now and six years ago, I awoke, showered, was in my office preparing for a client meeting, saw Tim leave for his own meeting; naive and oblivious to what I would find three short hours later.

Anyone close to Josh can probably think back and remember exactly where they were, what they were doing and what they felt upon hearing the tragic news.

Death, grief, sorrow, pain, heartache, memories, living with loss, living in spite of loss are very difficult to navigate early on and even six years later. Emotions are unpredictable as I do not know how I will feel or react today. I know there is numbness as last night, I heard of another teenage suicide in our area which could've put me in a tailspin but instead, I felt nothing except sorrow for the grieving family.

I want to share another "blessing" from John O'Donohue's book, To Bless The Space Between Us which has been a recent source of comfort to me.

For The Family and Friends of a Suicide

by John O'Donohue

As you huddle around the torn silence, 

Each by this lonely deed exiled,

To a solitary confinement of soul,

May some small glow from what has been lost

Return like the kindness of candlelight.

As your eyes strain to sift

This sudden wall of dark

And no one can say why

In such a forsaken, secret way,

This death was sent for...

May one of the lovely hours

Of memory return

Like a field of ease

Among these graveled days.

May the Angel of Wisdom

Enter this ruin of absence

And guide your minds

To receive this bitter chalice

So that you do not damage yourselves

By attending only at the hungry alter

Of regret and anger and guilt.

May you be given some inkling

That there could be something else at work

And that what to you now seems

Dark, destructive, and forlorn,

Might be a destiny that looks different 

From inside the eternal script.

May vision be granted to you

To see this with the eyes of providence.

May your loss become a sanctuary

Where new presence will dwell

To refine and enrich

The rest of your life

With courage and compassion.

And may your lost loved one

Enter into the beauty of eternal tranquility,

In that place where there is no more sorrow

Or separation or mourning or tears.

RIP Josh

January 16, 1992 - March 18, 2009

5 Years and 8 Months Later - New Picture

While browsing through Facebook recently, my heart stopped when I saw this picture (new to me) posted by a friend whose son was a good friend of Josh. She emailed it to me right away.

This is so signature Josh - the cool dude doing something funny. I am guessing it was taken in 2005 when he was 13 years old and in 7th grade. When I look at this picture, I try and peer into his mind and heart. Was he aware of the impending doom? Certainly doesn't look like it. My mind wanders back to that busy time looking for signs.

He didn't like school and was struggling with motivation in some of his classes. Was this something I should've picked up on?

He had a hard time getting up at 6am, but who wouldn't especially if one didn't fall sleep until 11pm or midnight?

He was a quiet kid at home but still engaged - piping in with funny comments at just the right time - making us laugh.

He excelled in athletics (football and lacrosse), which filled him with confidence and satisfaction. We attended every game to cheer him on.

I remember him being somewhat of a homebody. He would just as soon chill at home with us and the dogs as be with friends. I contrast this with my girls who HAD to be with friends 24/7.

Definitely into video games and very good.

In short, Josh completed our family. He and his older brother book-ended the girls. His easy going nature complemented the frenzy of a large, busy family. I still remember his periodic strong admonishments: "Chill Mom!"

This is an emotional post to write - bringing up memories of a happier time. Who knew that in four short years, his death would kill our family? Strong words, I know, but true. When a child dies, the grief is much more than the loss of the loved one. A part of me also died as well as the family that we were at the time. Nothing is the same and can ever be.

So it is loss upon loss upon loss. And grief upon grief upon grief.

And a suicide death complicates this even more.

So now, after 5+ years, while the pain, sorrow and anguish is not front and center like it was at the beginning, when it does pop up as while writing this post, it is still indescribable and inexpressible.

RIP Josh.

5 Years and 7 Months Later - Book: "Poetry as Survival" by Gregory Orr and Original Poem: "No Answer"

I have just finished reading Poetry as Survival by Gregory Orr, a professor of English at the University of Virginia. I loved it; it felt like I was taking a seminar course on how poetry, specifically the personal lyric, has the power to save, heal and transform the individual suffering from trauma.

He begins with his own personal tragedy.  At twelve, he was responsible for a hunting accident which killed his younger brother.  His parents did not blame him but neither did they console or comfort him, being overwhelmed with their own grief.  Two years later, his mother died unexpectedly after a routine medical procedure. The grief and guilt was overwhelming.

Through his high school English teacher, he found poetry and like Anne Sexton, it saved him.  He wrote his first poem and did not look back.  And this book is like a treatise, an argument - laid out carefully as if by an expert lawyer - on the healing powers of the lyric, personal, "I" poem in dealing with personal chaos caused by trauma.

He argues that from the time language was invented, when confronted with destabilizing human experience and emotions, man has used the lyric poem to express the inexpressible, to say the unsayable, to give order to chaos so that the poet could not only survive but then be connected to fellow sufferers. Poetry is then a way out of the silence and alienation that come from personal crisis.

When someone, in the throes of a powerful and disturbing experience, turns instinctively to the writing or reading of a poem, it is because they sense the personal lyric can be a powerful aid in helping them survive and make sense of their experience.

Echoing Anne Sexton's thoughts that poets are artists and as such, must turn to and examine the abyss of internal pain and inner chaos in order to write authentically; for them, the confines of the poem and the tools of language provide a safe place from which to do so. For the page is a finite space to house the words that speak the unspeakable. The poet can use formal techniques such as meter and rhyme which can further exert control and structure. Even in free verse, there is structure - albeit informal.

And to describe the indescribable, poets have the tools of figurative language: symbols, imagery, similes and metaphors that can be subtle or in-your-face. The more intuitive and surprising, the better.

In the personal lyric, the self encounters its existential crises in symbolic form, and the poem that results is a model of this encounter. By making such a dramatized, expressive model of its crisis, the self is able to acknowledge the existence, nature, and power of what is destabilizing it, while at the same time asserting its ultimate mastery over the disordering by the power of its linguistic and imaginative orderings. 

I can relate. I have instinctively turned to poetry as a means to express my deepest thoughts and feelings - see posts.  While they are the work of a true novice, I re-read these poems and are taken right back to the moment, thought or feeling. They still ring true.

For example, the ONLY way I could ever write about that horrible morning was in a short, terse, sparse poem. This describes what I saw, felt and heard.

No Answer

by Sue Anderson

1/29/2012

No answer,

   Voice silent.

No response, 

   Mind gone.

No sight, 

   Eyes unblinking.

No movement,

   Body stiff.

No breath,

   Chest still.

No beat, 

   Extremities blue.

No life,

   Hope abandoned.

Why?  I screamed,

   No answer.

Moving Video by Teen Who Survived Suicide Attempt

Sad news recently as teen suicide deaths in our area continue.  This time, two high school girls have taken the tragic, irrevocable action to end their lives….new victims of the "permanent solution to a temporary problem."

It is hard to describe how I feel upon hearing the news: first, OH NO, NOT ANOTHER YOUNG LIFE! then deep heartache in thinking about the intense pain of the poor mother and the terrible grief journey the families must now endure.

And it brings it all up again for me.

In a twitter feed that mourned the loss of one of the girls, a video called "What if I killed myself…" was posted.  Here is a description: "This video is produced by 1VoiceInside for Suicide Prevention Month. Hopefully this video helps to de-stigmatize suicide and opens people's minds to the true helplessness and hopelessness that mental illness induces."

A young man shares about his battle with depression and suicidal ideation.  Thankfully his attempt did not succeed and he courageously tells his story.  The first time I saw the video, my heart flipped because his basketball jersey number was #33, which was Josh's football jersey number.

His message is so important as kids need to know that they are not alone,  On June 5th of this year, the Josh Anderson Foundation (JAF) co-sponsored a Teen-To-Teen Mental Health Summit where 5 kids also courageously shared their stories.  This successful program is one that we want to repeat and multiply - view post to see video and learn more.

As a society and in our communities and families, there MUST be a paradigm shift in how we view mental illness. I long for the day when we have the same understanding and empathy towards a kid suffering from a mental illness like clinical depression as if he/she were a diabetic.  Both kids need to manage their illnesses (medication, activities, etc) to avoid the devastating and affects of the disease.  And if they don't, the consequences could be fatal.

Yet today, in middle and high schools across America, the kid struggling with a mental health issue  feels isolated due to the stigma.  They cannot be real and open about what is really going on inside because of fear…fear of what people will think, what they will say, how they will be treated.

No kid should have to live in shame and fear.

No kid should have to suffer in silence.

No kid should have to feel like suicide is their only viable option. 

RIP Josh and all the others who are in my heart. 

Thoughts from "Searching for Mercy Street: A Journey Back to My Mother, Anne Sexton" by Linda Gray Sexton

Linda Gray Sexton became a suicide survivor at 21-years old when her mother killed herself by sitting in a running car with the garage doors closed.  The Pulitzer Prize-winning poet's battle with mental illness was over.  Anne Sexton was only forty-five years old.

In the years following her mother's death, Linda finished college, edited and published Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters (1977), got married, had two children after suffering several miscarriages, published four novels, was a critical contact for Diane Middlebrook, author of Anne Sexton: A Biography (1991), suffered from the same illness and suicidal ideation as her mother and at the age of thirty-six, was at a place in life where her mother's death overshadowed everything.

The answer to her psychotherapist's question, "How often do you think about your mother?  Once a week?  Once a month?" was "How about every day."

In her words, she "needed an exorcism" and what resulted was this brutally honest memoir published in 1994, twenty years after her mother's death.

Rather than being cathartic, she found writing Searching for Mercy Street to be more a testimony to the events of her life - the abandonment, the chaos, the strange sexual games played with her mother, the domestic abuse, Anne's multiple suicide attempts and resulting hospitalizations, the constant manipulation as well as the few positive memories such as the writing lessons received at their kitchen table.

As I told my own story, I validated my life's experiences and toughened myself; it was a part of my self-education, one that helped me gain control over what had once seemed unmanageable.  Silence compels us to look at what lies behind it, and revelation brings with it knowledge - which is why some feel as if they must write about the private aspects of their lives, in search of solace and clarity.  To speak candidly, with neither justification nor humiliation, relieves the haunting of memory and mind and becomes one way to regain our dignity and our strength. 

Yes! - this is EXACTLY why I continue to write in my journal and on this blog.  It is a testimony to the journey I was thrust on, against my will, kicking and screaming, over five years ago.

So this is a very personal memoir about living with mental illness and suicide, both her mother's and her own.  Through her own suffering, she is able to absolve her mother's action.

Suicide is an immediate and permanent solution to pain.  The pain can be either physical or emotional: emotional pain of an intensity sufficient to drive the sufferer to consider suicide often manifest itself in physical symptoms so powerful that to quibble about origin is beside the point. Pain is pain regardless of its source. None of these conditions can necessarily be conquered by willpower; neither are they induced by laziness, lack of moral ethic, or selfishness.  

In my mind I had accused my mother of these failings many times. Now, my own experience had taught me a different and quite simple lesson: suicide is a synonym for escape…She had sought death because she believed she had no alternative. A life of pain is not a life worth living. She was not a coward, but instead a realist.

After reading these words, I can't help but wonder how much is applicable to our beloved Josh. He was not at risk for suicide, so we and his psychologist thought but obviously he was. What haunts me is this: what internal pain did he suffer from and for how long?

Her words about the root cause (depression), reminds me of William Styron's short powerful memoir, Darkenss Visible - see post for thoughts.

My mother died of depression. Untreatable, unceasing depression. Why, when we refer to depression, do we think of it in the main as a state characterized by numbness and low spirits rather than intense suffering? Why, in fact, is the word pain rarely used when describing depression? The dictionary uses synonyms such as melancholy, despondency, and sadness.

These are relevant questions at the time of publication in 1994 and now, twenty years later.

Before Josh's death, I was naive and uneducated in the topics of mental illness, depression and suicide. I did not know the signs of depression/suicide, leaving it to the "experts".  Now, I cringe whenever I see the list of signs because at least half can be ticked off as applicable to Josh.

This fuels our mission of The Josh Anderson Foundation: to "provide teenagers with the mental health education, resources and support so that they will never turn to suicide."

Teenagers because they may be their own last line of defense but also parents and teachers, coaches and youth leaders.  We all need to come together to stop Death's tool from taking any more young lives.

Original Poem: Sir Death

I wrote this poem to contrast polar reactions when faced with a life-threatening situation.  For most, our natural inclination kicks in: we fight for life.  I've seen this exemplified in a close relative who has defied death several times, sometimes it seems, by sheer will power.  Josh took the opposite route.

Why the difference?

More food for thought after reading an article this week in the Washington Post:  Blood Test May Show Risk of Suicide. 

Sir Death

by Sue Anderson

Sir Death is alive and well,

filling most with fear and dread,

his fellowship to be avoided at all cost.

Sometimes close,

he elicits the most desperate desire to live:

     no doctor too far

     no medicine too pricey

     no procedure too painful

     no therapy too crazy

succumbing to the most primal instinct

is to defy Death's grip.

But for others,

even as young as seventeen,

healthy and strong,

the false invitation entices

filling the gullible soul with hope of freedom

     from the pain, shame and guilt

causing a break with Reason, whereby,

     Death wins.

    

Poem: To The Young Who Want To Die by Gwendolyn Brooks

I received this poem from a fellow mom who lost her son to suicide exactly one month before Josh and knew I had to share on the blog.

I want every teen who is in that dark place to read it.

I wish Josh's could've read it that fateful night.

To the Young Who Want to Die

by Gwendolyn Brooks

Sit down.  Inhale.  Exhale. 

The gun will wait.  The lake will wait.

The tall gall in the small seductive vial

will wait will wait:

will wait a week: will wait through April.

You do not have to die this certain day.

Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.

I assure you death will wait.  Death has

a lot of time.  Death can

attend to you tomorrow.  Or next week.  Death is

just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;

can meet you any moment.

You need not die today.

Stay here - through pout or pain or peskiness.

Stay here.  See what the news is going to be tomorrow. 

Graves grow no green that you can use.

Remember, green's your color.  You are Spring. 

RIP Timmy

A couple of weeks ago, I found an article on Facebook, printed it out for myself and made a mental note to post on the blog.

After the very sad events of this week, it is a perfect time to share.  Our community is reeling over two suicide deaths at Langley HS where both Lauren and Josh went to school.  We know one of the families as Timmy's older brother Peter, was a good friend of Josh's and came to our home over 4 years ago to console us.  And now, tragically, we are returning the favor.

When Josh died, the friends of Tyler, Lauren and Gillian came from all over to be with them.  Peter's friends are doing the same for him.  And they are the same boys that came to our home in March 09 so it has been like deja vu for all of us.

Two of his friends joined me in my weekly visit to Josh's park yesterday.  One asked, "what can I do to help Peter?  It is hard to know what to do and what to say."  I just shared what helped us and what it comes down to is very simple - just being there….through thick and thin and over the long haul….just as they have done for us and I know they will do for their suffering friend.

While writing this morning, I came across the article within the pages of my journal and have cut and pasted in it's entirety below as I could never do proper justice by paraphrasing.

Please read and pass along to others - those who have suffered unbearable loss/trauma and those who seek to help them.

A New Normal:  Ten Things I've Learned About Trauma by Catherine Woodiwiss.


I wasn’t really expecting painful things to happen to me.

I knew that pain was a part of life, but — thanks in part to a peculiar blend of “God-has-a-plan” Southern roots, a suburban “Midwestern nice” upbringing, and a higher education in New England stoicism — I managed to skate by for quite some time without having to experience it.

After a handful of traumas in the last five years, things look different now. Trauma upends everything we took for granted, including things we didn’t know we took for granted. And many of these realities I wish I’d known when I first encountered them. So, while the work of life and healing continues, here are ten things I’ve learned about trauma along the way:

1. Trauma permanently changes us.

This is the big, scary truth about trauma: there is no such thing as “getting over it.” The five stages of grief model marks universal stages in learning to accept loss, but the reality is in fact much bigger: a major life disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no “back to the old me.” You are different now, full stop.

This is not a wholly negative thing. Healing from trauma can also mean finding new strength and joy. The goal of healing is not a papering-over of changes in an effort to preserve or present things as normal. It is to acknowledge and wear your new life — warts, wisdom, and all — with courage.

2.  Presence is always better than distance.

There is a curious illusion that in times of crisis people “need space.” I don’t know where this assumption originated, but in my experience it is almost always false. Trauma is a disfiguring, lonely time even when surrounded in love; to suffer through trauma alone is unbearable. Do not assume others are reaching out, showing up, or covering all the bases.

It is a much lighter burden to say, “Thanks for your love, but please go away,” than to say, “I was hurting and no one cared for me.” If someone says they need space, respect that. Otherwise, err on the side of presence.

3.  Healing is seasonal, not linear.

It is true that healing happens with time. But in the recovery wilderness, emotional healing looks less like a line and more like a wobbly figure-8. It’s perfectly common to get stuck in one stage for months, only to jump to another end entirely … only to find yourself back in the same old mud again next year.

Recovery lasts a long, long time. Expect seasons.

4.  Surviving trauma takes “firefighters” and “builders.” Very few people are both.

This is a tough one. In times of crisis, we want our family, partner, or dearest friends to be everything for us. But surviving trauma requires at least two types of people: the crisis team — those friends who can drop everything and jump into the fray by your side, and the reconstruction crew — those whose calm, steady care will help nudge you out the door into regaining your footing in the world. In my experience, it is extremely rare for any individual to be both a firefighter and a builder. This is one reason why trauma is a lonely experience. Even if you share suffering with others, no one else will be able to fully walk the road with you the whole way.

A hard lesson of trauma is learning to forgive and love your partner, best friend, or family even when they fail at one of these roles. Conversely, one of the deepest joys is finding both kinds of companions beside you on the journey.

5.  Grieving is social, and so is healing.

For as private a pain as trauma is, for all the healing that time and self-work will bring, we are wired for contact. Just as relationships can hurt us most deeply, it is only through relationship that we can be most fully healed.

It’s not easy to know what this looks like — can I trust casual acquaintances with my hurt? If my family is the source of trauma, can they also be the source of healing? How long until this friend walks away? Does communal prayer help or trivialize?

Seeking out shelter in one another requires tremendous courage, but it is a matter of life or paralysis. One way to start is to practice giving shelter to others.

6.  Do not offer platitudes or comparisons. Do not, do not, do not.

“I’m so sorry you lost your son, we lost our dog last year … ” “At least it’s not as bad as … ” “You’ll be stronger when this is over.” “God works in all things for good!”

When a loved one is suffering, we want to comfort them. We offer assurances like the ones above when we don’t know what else to say. But from the inside, these often sting as clueless, careless, or just plain false.

Trauma is terrible. What we need in the aftermath is a friend who can swallow her own discomfort and fear, sit beside us, and just let it be terrible for a while.

7.  Allow those suffering to tell their own stories.

Of course, someone who has suffered trauma may say, “This made me stronger,” or “I’m lucky it’s only (x) and not (z).” That is their prerogative. There is an enormous gulf between having someone else thrust his unsolicited or misapplied silver linings onto you, and discovering hope for one’s self. The story may ultimately sound very much like “God works in all things for good,” but there will be a galaxy of disfigurement and longing and disorientation in that confession. Give the person struggling through trauma the dignity of discovering and owning for himself where, and if, hope endures.

8.  Love shows up in unexpected ways.

This is a mystifying pattern after trauma, particularly for those in broad community: some near-strangers reach out, some close friends fumble to express care. It’s natural for us to weight expressions of love differently: a Hallmark card, while unsatisfying if received from a dear friend, can be deeply touching coming from an old acquaintance.

Ultimately every gesture of love, regardless of the sender, becomes a step along the way to healing. If there are beatitudes for trauma, I’d say the first is, “Blessed are those who give love to anyone in times of hurt, regardless of how recently they’ve talked or awkwardly reconnected or visited cross-country or ignored each other on the metro.” It may not look like what you’d request or expect, but there will be days when surprise love will be the sweetest.

9.  Whatever doesn’t kill you …

In 2011, after a publically humiliating year, comedian Conan O’Brien gave students at Dartmouth College the following warning:

"Nietzsche famously said, 'Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.' … What he failed to stress is that it almost kills you.”
Odd things show up after a serious loss and creep into every corner of life: insatiable anxiety in places that used to bring you joy, detachment or frustration towards your closest companions, a deep distrust of love or presence or vulnerability.

There will be days when you feel like a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible chasm, when fear paralyzes any chance for pleasure. This is just a fight that has to be won, over and over and over again.

10.  … Doesn’t kill you.

Living through trauma may teach you resilience. It may help sustain you and others in times of crisis down the road. It may prompt humility. It may make for deeper seasons of joy. It may even make you stronger.

It also may not.

In the end, the hope of life after trauma is simply that you have life after trauma. The days, in their weird and varied richness, go on. So will you.  

The Josh Anderson Foundation: Working to Stop Teenage Suicide

The mission of the Josh Anderson Foundation (JAF) is simple - to provide young adults with the mental health education, resources and support so that they will never turn to suicide.

Due to Lauren's efforts, much has been accomplished over the past 18 months.  In fact, JAF is featured in the August 2013 episode of SAMHSA's Road to Recovery television series entitled "Young Adults in Recovery: Meeting the Needs of the "Millennial Generation""


SAMHSA stands for Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration.

Click here for the JAF segment.

My Fibonacci Poems: Gone and Negative Space

Reading and writing poetry is a small but significant part of my Grief Journey.  Poems, via careful choice of words, can house deep, profound thoughts and feelings within a relatively short amount of space.  Since I am not a verbose person nor a prolific writer, this form has suited me - see post of my fledgling attempts.

I have been reading through the posts on last month's National Poetry Month Blog Tour, hosted by Savvy Verse & Wit and came across this post on Fibonacci poems  by Tabatha Yeatts.

In 2006, Gregory K came up with the idea to marry the mathematical Fibonacci sequence and poetry.  "The Fib" is a "six line, 20 syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8 – the classic Fibonacci sequence."- see his original post.

My first attempts at the Fib:

Gone
Life
Death
He's gone
by his hand.
Sun and moon have stopped;
irrevocably changed - damn Death!

Negative Space
Blank
Void
Empty
Negative
space in my red heart,
un-fillable except by him.

4 Years and 1 Month later - April 18, 2013

Josh has been top-of-mind lately as it is a big week for the Josh Anderson Foundation (JAF).  We have brought suicide awareness speaker Jordan Burnham back to Northern Virginia to speak to middle schoolers, high schoolers and parents about his depression, suicide attempt, and how he found ways to cope after his miraculous survival.  Check out ESPN's E:60 Special to learn more about his story.

He spoke to the entire student body of three schools: Lake Braddock Middle School, Lake Braddock High School and W.T Woodson High School - about 6,000 students.

We held parent sessions the night before he spoke to the students and roughly a hundred parents came out. I wish there were more.  I attended these sessions and at both, during the Q&A, parents asked him, "In retrospect, what could've stopped you from going out your 9-bedroom story window?"

Of course, my ears perked up as this is the question I ask myself over and over about Josh:  What could've helped him?

His answer reinforces JAF's mission.  Jordan simply said that he needed to hear a speaker like himself: someone young, who talks confidently and unashamedly about his struggles with depression, suicidal thoughts, time in a mental hospital, skepticism about therapy, medication non-compliance and alcohol abuse while in high school.   That he needed to be educated about mental health issues and know that it was not only okay but it was actually courageous to be open and seek help.

As I sat listening to his story, I couldn't agree more.  Teens need to hear from people they perceive as cool - someone they would like to emulate.  Lectures from adults go in one ear and out the other whereas a powerful, honest story like Jordan's will impact and inspire them.  As he told parents, his main goal was to give kids permission to own up to their emotions/feelings and to do whatever they can to get better.  I believe Josh would've been impacted by listening to such direct and unafraid talk about mental health.

One of the schools had two suicides this school year.  My heart dropped when I heard this.

The counseling staff at the other school said that kids were coming to see them because of Jordan's story.  GOOD!

At Lake Braddock High School gym

Speaking with students afterwards

Middle school students line up to speak to him

W.T. Woodson auditorium - two sessions allowed him to speak to the entire student body

Jordan's parents are lucky that their son miraculously cheated death.   I wish that were us.  But at least we can do something so that Josh's death is not in vain.  We can work to save other teens, by providing hope and education so that they will NEVER turn to suicide.

But as rewarding as all of this is, it does not take away the deep. bottomless sadness that overwhelms me - even four years later.  I have finally gone through Josh's desk and closet and have found strands of his hair which I keep in his wallet along with driver's license and AAA card.  This is next to my computer along with his passport, issued in August 2007.  The pages are empty as he never had the chance to go abroad.

The loss feels very raw right now, like when a deep wound reopens.  But this is what grief does; it ebbs and flows, recedes and advances, diminishes and lengthens, very much like the waves of the sea.  Today, after Lauren had spoken at a Safe Community Coalition breakfast about the work that JAF is doing, she was approached by an administrator at Josh's school, who said that despite dying in their sophomore year, his friends took him with them throughout the rest of their high schools days - all the way through graduation.  Hearing this is bitter-sweet; it helps me to know how much he was loved but is tough to contemplate once again, the negative space of his passing.

RIP beloved son.  We are keeping your memory alive while working to save others.

3 Years and 10 Months Later: Hippolytus by Euripides

There is much in this ancient Greek tragedy which resonates with me on this anniversary month.

First, some background of the story:  Handsome, strong, athletic, virile Hippolytus whole-heartedly worships Artemis, virgin Goddess of the Hunt.  He has absolutely no romantic interest in women and has gone so far as to call Aphrodite the "vilest of the Gods in Heaven."  Because of this, the vain Goddess of Love determines to punish Hippolytus by causing his step-mother, Phaedra to fall hopelessly in love with him.  In keeping these incestuous feelings a secret, Phaedra suffers mightily; becoming depressed and suicidal.

Phaedra speaks of the power of shame:

Then there is shame that thwarts us.  Shame is of two kinds.  The one is harmless, but the other a plague.

This "plague" fills her body and mind, leading her thoughts towards death.

Then I believed that I could conquer love,
conquer it with discretion and good sense.
And when that too failed me, I resolved to die.
And death is the best plan of them all.  Let none of you
dispute that. 

A haunting description of Phaedra's suicidal ideation:

For she would willingly bring her life to anchor
at the end of its voyage - the gloomy harbor of death. 

When the awful deed is done, the chorus says:

Woman unhappy, tortured,
your suffering, your death,
has shaken this house to its foundations. 

You were daring, you who died in violence and guilt.
Here was a wrestling: your own hand against your life. 

Who can have cast a shadow on your life? 

Her husband Theseus' words echo perfectly what I felt 46 months ago, on that horrible, unspeakable day.  (My edits are in parenthesis).

O city, city! Bitterness of sorrow!
Extremest sorrow that a [mother] can suffer!
Fate, you have ground me and my house to dust,
fate in the form of some ineffable
pollution, some grim spirit of revenge.
The file has whittled away my life until
it is a life no more.
I am like a swimmer that falls into a great sea:
I cannot cross this towering wave I see before me. 

My [son]!  I cannot think
of anything said or done to drive you to this horrible death.
You are like bird that has vanished out of my hand.
You have made a quick leap out of my arms
into the land of Death.

I have no doubt that "pre-Josh", these gut-wrenching words of sorrow and woe would have gone in one ear and out the other, bouncing off my naive heart.  Instead, they have pierced and penetrated my death-initiated soul with arrows of truth.

November 18, 2012 - 3 Years and 8 Months Later

Josh has been top-of-mind lately.  You see, over the past few weeks, we have been preparing for a bar fundraiser (our second) for the Josh Anderson Foundation (JAF).  It was held Thursday night at The Tavern in Great Falls and was another success, matching the amount raised at our March fundraiser.  See this post for more details and slideshow.

But what was truly heartwarming about the evening was the incredible community support for our family, for Josh, for JAF and ultimately, for the young people in our area that we are trying to reach.  In numerous conversations with new supporters, heads were nodding as I stated the obvious: teens today face tremendous pressure, academically and socially along with expectations to excel in athletics and/or extra-curricular activities.  Combine this with issues that may be occurring at home and one can see the "perfect storm" for mental health deterioration.

Therefore the statistics in the 2011-2012 Fairfax County Youth Survey ( 31,106 students in 8th, 10th and 12th grades) are alarming but not surprising.  Almost one in three students (29.2%) reported "depressive symptoms in the past year" which means "feeling so sad or helpless for two or more weeks in a row that they stopped doing usual activities."   FCPS's 10th and 12th grader percentages are higher than the national average.

Students were asked if they had seriously considered suicide in the past year.  Affirmative responses were reported from one in five girls and one in eight boys.  Once again, FCPS's 10th and 12 graders are higher than the national average.

4% of students reported actually attempting suicide.  It is good to see that our 10th and 12th graders are below the national average; however, in absolute numbers, we are talking about over 1,200 of our kids attempting to end their lives!

In our work with local schools, it is encouraging to see that school administrators, counselors, schools psychologists and social workers as well as PTSA presidents all understand that our kids are at risk and are eager to partner with us. As a result, true inroads and impact are being made in local high schools and one middle school - see flyer.

So last Thursday was about community and a demonstration of the adage, "It takes a village to raise a child".   It was about people of all age groups coming together to show support financially and/or with their time for the Josh Anderson Foundation, born out of tragedy, that seeks to prevent other needless teen deaths.   We are making a difference.  Josh's death is not in vain.

All this was swirling through my head when a dear friend asked me, "How are you doing?"

I was thinking about this while on vacation in California at the end of last month.  I have been in contact with two moms who have lost their sons earlier this year - one by suicide, the other by an accidental drug overdose.  They are just starting their grief journey whereas for me, it has been well over three years.  They are facing their first holidays without their beloved boys; it is my fourth.  I can tell their grief is so raw and acute whereas mine is a dull ache.  At every moment they are reminded of their loss; for me, Josh's absence is a sad fact of life.

All this makes me realize that I am at a different place, doing what I never thought possible in the early months - I have moved on, while taking Josh with me.  I do not feel stuck in "grief quicksand", for which I am grateful.

Another thing that I've noticed is that my memories are no longer overshadowed by his death.  I can now look back in time, remember a certain event, gesture, comment, facial expression or interaction and see it clearly - without pain.

The dark, grey clouds that colored my landscape those early months; swirling, relentless and all-encompassing have lifted.  I cannot point to a specific moment when they dissipated; it must have happened gradually, over time, while putting one foot in front of the other.

Back to the question:  How am I doing?  Thanks to all the support from family and friends, I think I am doing okay, and not just flippant okay, but really, genuinely and sincerely okay.

RIP Josh.
We love and miss you.

September 18, 2012 - Three and Half Years Later

It has now been 3.5 years since Josh decided to leave us.  This might be a good time to take stock of where I am in my grief journey.

I continue to ask the unanswerable question, "why, Josh, why?" and still struggle with disbelief; not denial, but disbelief - there is a difference.  Guilt and her close cousin, Regret remain constant companions.  I visit Josh every weekend except when traveling, and write my weekly letter to him.  I do not ever foresee stopping this ritual.

I continue to find solace, comfort and illumination in books, most recently in the ancient Greek and Roman epics and tragedies.  A secret wish is to go back to college and pursue a literature degree.

Outside of my full-time job, I teach a couple of spin classes a week and have added running and Bikram yoga to my regular fitness routine.  The fact that I have continued exercising after Josh's death has probably helped me more than I give it credit.  I should ponder this further and perhaps write a post on this subject.

I have little to no patience with people consumed with the superficial, external, frivolous, shallow and trivial matters of life.  That probably sounds harsh but is true.

In contrast, Josh's death has brought a depth to all of my relationships: with my surviving children, extended family and friends who knew him.   I remain in periodic contact with several of Josh's friends which is a source of great comfort.

Fall always makes me think of football so I have thought about watching the highlight video of Josh's last football season but don't think I can.  We also have pictures and video of the memorial service, neither of which I have seen and not sure if I ever will.  I have not gone through his closet or desk - everything has remained as it was a couple of weeks afterwards when Tyler cleared/straightened things up (I could not go into Josh's room for that was where I found him).

I find hope in The Josh Anderson Foundation whose mission is "to provide teenagers with the mental health education, resources and support so that they will never turn to suicide."  It is critical that we educate the adolescent's mind, for in their darkest hour, if they do not reach out for help, the vulnerable teen who is seriously contemplating death must stop that dangerous dance.  Which means in effect, they are their own last line of defense.

With Lauren's focus on the foundation full-time, a good start was made in local high schools last spring.  I hope we can bring meaningful programs to many more schools this year.

I am excited that we are going to help bring the Send Silence Packing display to UVA's lawn on October 4th.   We funded the display in Fairfax, VA - see Gillian's moving You Tube video of the event.  I wish high schools would allow the display on their football fields for the student body - I guarantee the impact would be huge, perhaps bigger than anything else we could do.

I appreciate when high profile individuals have the courage to share their struggles with depression and even more pointedly, with suicide.  Tim and I watched an interview with Christina Kim, popular LPGA golfer in which she admitted to both.  She writes on a blog which Tim found for me - here is her "coming out" post.

Tyler forwarded me a post that he found via Facebook.  This guy, Chris Gethard, hosts a very popular comedy/variety late night show and took the time to respond to a fan who was suicidal.  The post is very raw and the language is explicit but comes directly from the heart.  I wish Josh could've read something like this on that fateful night.

http://thechrisgethardshow.tumblr.com/post/31345619495/for-gethard-anonymous-asks-gethard-i-know-youve

RIP beloved son.  Missed and loved now more than ever.

Love,
Mom

Death, Grief and Suicide in Hamlet - Part II

Hamlet's depression continues as he wrestles with fulfilling the duty of avenging his father's death.

I have of late - but wherefore I know not - lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises, and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air - look you, this brave overhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire - why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors (II, II, 287 - 299).

And in one of the most famous lines of English literature, Hamlet ponders whether living, with all the "slings and arrows" that come our way is better than the eternal sleep of death, which puts an end to all "heartache and the thousand natural shocks."

To be, or not to be?  That is the question -
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them?  To die, to sleep -
No more - and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to - 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished! (III, I, 57 - 65).

Hamlet is a tragedy of epic proportions. By the end of the play, almost everyone is dead.  In this midst of all this mayhem, I am most interested in how grief is portrayed.

Ophelia is the prince's love interest who is utterly rejected by Hamlet in his misery and paranoia.  Her father, Polonius is the well-meaning Lord Chamberlain of Claudius' court but often misguided.  He jumps to erroneous conclusions about Hamlet which causes him to set in motion events that lead to devastating consequences, one being his own demise.  When Ophelia hears of her dear father's death, she literally goes mad. Claudius's description:

Oh, this is the poison of deep grief.  It springs all from her father's death, and now behold!....Poor Ophelia divided from herself and her fair judgement, without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts (IV,V,73-74 and 82-84).

She wanders to the riverbank, climbs a tree and falls into the water.  She does nothing to save herself and so drowns.  At the cemetery, the gravediggers discuss how she who "willfully seeks her own salvation" would not normally be given a Christian burial and so conclude that she was from a wealthy family.

The burial ceremony by the priest is very brief.  Laertes, Ophelia's brother asks the priest to perform additional rites. Their short dialogue says it all:

L:  Must there no more be done? 

Priest:  No more be done.  We should profane the service of the dead to sing a requiem and such rest to her as to peace-parted souls. 

L: Lay her i' th' earth, and from her fair and unpolluted flesh may violets spring!  I tell thee, churlish priest, a ministering angel shall my sister be when thou liest howling (V, I, 217 - 225).

My margin notes:  Agreed!  Priest is a self-righteous b***!

Hamlet has been watching this and now joins Laertes in Ophelia's grave. This is their expression of grief:

L:  Hold off the earth awhile till I have caught her once more in my arms.  Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, till of this flat a mountain you have made, t' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head of blue Olympus.  

H:  What is he whose grief bears such an emphasis, whose phrase of sorrow conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane (V, I, 233-242). 

(Modern translation - Who is the one whose grief is so loud and clear, whose words of sadness make the planets stand still in the heavens as if they've been hurt by what they've heard?)

It is difficult to express the depths of my grief which is why I have come to love Shakespeare's tragedies.  He writes what I feel.

"Darkness Visible" by William Styron

Another survivor memoir of an acclaimed writer - survival from himself.

This short 84 page book, published in 1990 and easily read in one night, is a poignant, powerful memoir in which Styron attempts to describe the indescribable - "the pain of severe depression is quite unimaginable to those who have not suffered it, and it kills in many instances because its anguish can no longer be borne."

Styron won the Pulitzer Prize in 1968 for his novel, The Confessions of Nat Turner.  Other well-known works include his first novel, Lie Down in Darkness (1951) and Sophie's Choice (1979).  He became clinically depressed and suicidal later in life (60's) although he admits that alcohol use probably masked the symptoms.

Styron has a beef with the word "depression" arguing that

"melancholia" would still appear to be a far more apt and evocative word for the blacker forms of the disorder, but it was usurped by a noun with a bland tonality and lacking any magisterial presence, used indifferently to describe an economic decline or a rut in the ground, a true wimp of a word for such a major illness.

Why do the blackest thoughts reside in some and not others?  He tries to answer this for himself and for the long list of other artists who succumbed to suicide, acknowledging that

bloody and bowed by the outrages of life, most human beings still stagger on down the road, unscathed by real depression.  To discover why some people plunge into the downward spiral of depression, one must search beyond the manifest crisis - and then still fail to come up with anything beyond wise conjecture.

Bottom line, who knows?

He describes the rapid descent of "anxiety, agitation, unfocused dread" and openly admits relating to Baudelair, the 19th century poet's words, I have felt the wind of the wing of madness.  He then very definitively says:

But never let it be doubted that depression, in its extreme form, is madness.  That madness results from an aberrant biochemical process.....such madness is chemically induced amid the neurotransmitters of the brain, probably as the result of systemic stress, which for unknown reasons causes a depletion of the chemicals norepinephrine and serotonin, and the increase of a hormone, cortisol.

This reminds me of Josh's psychologist's words when we spoke on the phone after his death. Somehow, that night, Josh suffered a psychotic break with reality.   I did not get it then, but Styron's words help give some framework to the comment.

As Styron's struggles intensified, he gives a vivid description of the mental pain and anguish that leads to suicidal thoughts.

It may be more accurate to say that despair owing to some evil trick played upon the sick brain by the inhabiting psyche, comes to resemble the diabolical discomfort of being imprisoned in a fiercely overheated room.  And because no breeze stirs in this cauldron, because there is no escape from this smothering confinement, it is entirely natural that the victim begins to think ceaselessly of oblivion.

He goes on to speak of the concept of loss:

It is the touchstone of depression - in the progress of the disease and, more likely, in its origin....the loss of self-esteem is a celebrated symptom...one dreads the loss of all things, all people close and dear.  There is an acute fear of abandonment....There is no doubt that as one nears the penultimate depths of depression - which is to say just before the stage when one begins to act out one's suicide instead of being a mere contemplator of it - the acute sense of loss is connected with a knowledge of life slipping away at accelerated speed.

He chronicles his own suicidal ideation and the reason why.

In depression this faith in deliverance, in ultimate restoration, is absent.  The pain is unrelenting and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come - not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute.  If there is mild relief, one knows that it is only temporary; more pain will follow.  It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul....the situation of the walking wounded.  

On the night he determined his own extinction, he "experienced a curious inner convulsion that I can describe only as despair beyond despair.  It came out of the cold night; I did not think such anguish possible."

He was so close to suicide but luckily for him, one song snapped him out of it.  He was voluntarily hospitalized the next day.  My thoughts upon reading this are, Why wasn't Josh saved?  Why wasn't he spared?  Why couldn't he have failed?  Why couldn't something have snapped him out of it?

"After a Funeral" by Diana Athill

I picked this book up in August 2011 at my local Border's closing sale.  The title caught my eye but the blurb on the back sealed the deal.

The story of how and why a talented writer came to kill himself - a classic memoir by one of our most esteemed authors.  When Diana Athill met the man she calls "Didi," she fell in love instantly and out of love just as quickly....With painful honesty, Athill explores the years she tried to help him, a period that culminated in Didi's suicide - in her apartment - an event he described in his journals as "the one authentic act of my life."

While I did not find myself drawn to the complicated relationship between Athill and Didi, a few quotes made it to my journal for further thought.

Didi was a diarist.  Like me, he wrote in his diary to survive.  Me from Josh's death, and he, from his own depression.

When I started writing I improved a lot, and then I discovered my salvation - a combination of salvation and writing.  My diaries.....I'd sit down and write - give vent to my feelings in writing, instead of in talking or behavior.  This would simmer me down, and I'd become normal again and often shake my head at the strangeness of it all.....In depression my diary becomes hopeless because it was writing it and reading it and seeing the way I sometimes am which often used to cause depression....This diary, then, this medicine, this dark and innermost secret womb of mine, is something I have created to save me (146-147).

Because I have no clues as to Josh's mental and emotional state which led to his fatal and irrevocable act, I want to read the suicidal ideation of others, whether from real people or fictional characters.  In fact, I have a little file box in which are recorded such quotes as below.  Morbid and a somewhat futile exercise, I know, because the only one who could tell me what he was thinking is gone, and who knows if he himself could articulate what dark thoughts were swirling in his mind, but still, I want to try and understand.

When I read such thoughts and copy the quotes in my journal or on notecards to file away, I wonder if Josh felt the same.  Then sadly, I wonder how many other young people or not-so-young people have similar thoughts.

Didi's feeling of self-repulsion were real and overwhelming.

Falling - falling - falling.  Perhaps I have been unable to touch my diary lately, except in short fits, because at times I am repulsive to myself, I don't want to touch me, to interest myself in me.  It is horrible to dislike your own self so much and there must be a vestige of genuine madness in all this....There is nothing I would welcome more than death at this moment, this very instant - here and now....I am left with what I am left with now: hopelessness, self-pity - and ugly and repulsive self-pity - and such despair, sadness loneliness and finally utter darkness....I have no affection or respect for myself at all.  I loathe and find intensely repulsive a man of my sort (53-55).

Because he was a faithful diarist, it stands to reason that he would record thoughts after ingesting a bottle of sleeping pills.

And the most dramatic moment of my life - the only authentic one - is a terrible let-down.  I have already swallowed my death.  I could vomit it out if I wanted to.  Honestly and sincerely, I really don't want to.  It is a pleasure.  I am doing this not in a sad, unhappy way; but on the contrary, happily and even (a state of being and a word I have always loved) SERENELY....serenely.

He did not die serenely at all.  Because he called a friend, (Athill thought he wanted a witness), he was taken to the hospital where his stomach was pumped.  But it was too late.  After ten days in which he "moaned endlessly," he passed away.

After reading the five volume diary he left for her, Athill's conclusion:

It was not intolerable that he had killed himself.  It was intolerable that he had been right to do so - that he had no alternative.  It was intolerable that a man should be so crippled by things done to him in his defenseless childhood that he had been made, literally and precisely, unendurable to himself....He was certain at too deep a level, in the very fibres of his being, that he was unworthy of love.  Being unworthy of love, he must be punished; and the only way he could secure this was by plunging out to the point where he was driven to punish himself.  To be murdered would be a fate much simpler, and less sad. 

Haunting words.

Teenage suicidal ideation in Romeo and Juliet

Most are probably familiar with this tragic play.  As young "star-crossed" lovers, unable to be together due to a long-standing feud between families, Romeo and Juliet would rather die than be apart.  The expression of their love is excessively romantic:

Juliet 

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep.  The more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite (II,II, 133-135).

Romeo

Heaven is here,

Where Juliet lives (III,III, 29-30).

They are idealistic, romantic, "all in", and willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice for their love.  

I find, however, in the suicidal ideation quotes below, their self-annihilating thoughts come from immature teen brains: impetuous and impulsive.  The tragic and irrevocable deeds are fueled by a black and white perspective, typical of teens.   If they can't be together, they don't want to live; it's as simple as that. 

It begins with Juliet.

If all else fails, myself have power to die (III,V, 243).

When Romeo hears of Juliet's "death", he goes to the apothecary for poison.

Let me have a dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath (V, I, 61-64).

He is a young man and yet describes himself as "life-weary".  How can this be?

Profound speech by Romeo as he leaves with the poison:

There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murder in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
I sell thee poison.  Thou hast sold me none.
Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee (V, I, 82-88).

He has turned away from life, for who would want to live in a "loathsome world" where gold truly is the root of all evil?  He longs to be reunited with Juliet.

As he opens her tomb:

Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
And in despite I'll cram thee with more food! (V, III, 45-48).

The tomb has "eaten" Juliet and he will soon give it more food - himself.

After Romeo opens the tomb and sees Juliet; a haunting speech in which he justifies suicide:

Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair?  Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee,
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again.  Here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chamber maids.  Oh, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest,
And shake the yoke of inauspicious starts
From this world-wearied flesh.  Eyes, look your last.
Arms, take your last embrace.  And, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death.
(kisses Juliet, takes out the poison)  
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy seasick, weary bark.
Here's to my love! (drinks the poison) O true apothecary,
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide,
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die (V, III, 101-120).

He imagines that Death desires his beloved and so she needs his protection.  Once again, he describes himself as "world-wearied".

Juliet - after she awakens from supposed death and sees a dead Romeo:

What here?  A cup closed in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see hath been his timeless end...
I will kiss thy lips,
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative.
Thy lips are warm. 

O happy dagger,
This is thy sheath.  There rust and let me die (V, III, 161-170)

I find these passages haunting.  Although fiction and written over four hundred years ago, I think it shows that when desperate, the teenage mind can fixate on death as the ONLY solution.  

In order to prevent teenage suicides in our time, this is what needs to stop.  We must get it into our youth's developing minds that suicide is NEVER an option to their problem.  What if Josh had known this?  Would he be here today?   

"Send Silence Packing" Exhibit at Active Minds 8th Nat'l Conference

This past weekend, Lauren and I went attended a conference called "Empowering Advocates for Change" at the University of Maryland, hosted by Active Minds.  Started in 2001 by a UPenn student, a year after losing her older brother, also a college student, to suicide, the growth has been explosive (see story).  There are now 370 Active Minds chapters on college campuses all across North America, recognized nationally as the "voice of student mental health advocacy". Over 500 chapter members, advisors and supporters attended the event.  It was inspiring to be amongst so many young people who work tirelessly to ensure that no student is suffering in silence, that they know of available resources and understand, most importantly, that they are not alone. 

We went to this conference because we would like to use the money collected in Josh's fund to bring Active Minds speakers to local high schools, promoting the concept of Youth Mental Wellness.  We would also like to encourage our local school system to imitate Howard County Public Schools in Maryland, which has successfully implemented 5 Active Mind chapters in high schools, as part of a pilot program.

One of the many highly successful programs is Send Silence Packing.  Below are pictures from this powerful, life-changing display, right in the center of the University of Maryland's campus.  We would like to bring this display to Fairfax County.

1,100 backpacks, representing the lives lost to suicide on college campuses every year

Two girls reading Josh's story.  One was crying. 

Another young kid - I was moved because this bag was his actual backpack

Educational signs like this are all over....

These kids believe they are the voice of change.  If you are a college student and would like to be part of this voice, PLEASE join your college chapter, or start one (click here to find out more).

Media Coverage for FCPS School Board Election - updated 11/11/11

In the past, that is to say "pre-Josh", we did not pay much attention to School Board elections except to notice when they were imminent, evidenced by the multiple signs placed in the busy Route 7 median that runs from Tysons Corners to our home.

But now all that has changed.

The 2008 - 2009 School Board had responsibility over the disciplinary policies that treated our son far harsher than if he were caught by the police.  How can that be?   And in the end, my belief is that the expected decision of his expulsion from high school caused Josh to feel a loss so profound and overwhelming that he could not cope.  His fragile psyche sought a way out - a way that was irreversible and irrevocable.  Death.

After his tragic suicide on March 18, 2009, the School Board and Superintendent had the opportunity to assess the disciplinary policies, determine their effectiveness (or ineffectiveness) and initiate reform.  Yet nothing was done.

Then over a year later, another boy was caught and punished via the same draconian disciplinary policies.  And this poor boy also took his life.  Two death within two years.  And only because of the courageous sharing of the Stuben family, the thorough reporting by Washington Post journalist, Donna St. George, the additional media scrutiny (see blog post), pressing advocacy of FairfaxZeroToleranceReform and increasing outcry from the community, was the School Board forced to address reform in a June 9th vote.  But they did not go far enough.

So it is time for change.  Six of the twelve SB members are not seeking re-election.  Some who are should be replaced.  Josh was our youngest so we no longer have any children in this school system.  But for the thousands that entrust their children to FCPS, just as we did, I hope and pray that the November 8th elections will result in wholesale change.  And that the new group will roll up their sleeves and initiate common sense reform, ensuring that each child/teen is treated fairly, respectfully and above all, with the understanding that he/she is still a kid.

My intent is to keep this post updated with media links related to the upcoming elections.


July 18 - August 8, 2011
Vienna Patch: "Interviews with At-large School Board Candidates" on the issue of school discipline policies. "Discipline reform has become a key issue in this school board race. See how the candidates stack up."

August 10, 2011

McLean Connection: "At-large School Board Race: One to Watch" by Victoria Ross.  "Debates over discipline, boundaries, budgets, standardized tests and sleep have generated Fairfax County’s most closely watched and contested School Board race in the board’s 19-year history."

August 14, 2011

Washington Post: "Fairfax County School Board Races Could Overshadow Other Campaigns This Year" by Frederick Kunkle.  "Stuban is one of several political newcomers whose entry into the normally sleepy School Board elections has transformed them into this year’s marquee event in Fairfax politics in November, potentially overshadowing the races for the more powerful Board of Supervisors, which governs the county of more than 1 million residents."

September 23, 2011
Washington Post: "Fairfax School Board Races: Change vs Continuity" by Emma Brown


October 23, 2011
Washington Post: "Character of Fairfax School Board Rests On This Fall's At-Large Races" by Emma Brown

October 30, 2011
Washington Post: "Fairfax County School Board Candidates" by Emma Brown

November 4, 2011
Channel 9 News: "Fairfax County School Board Elections on Nov. 8" - interviews with candidates.

November 8, 2011
Washington Post: "Fairfax County School Board Control On Line But May See Little Change" by Emma Brown

November 9, 2011
Washington Examiner: "Election Pumps New Blood into Fairfax School Board" by Aubrey Whelan

November 10, 2011
Washington Post: "Even in Defeat, Fairfax School Board Candidates May Force Change" by Emma Brown.