The following are my opening remarks (start in video at 14:00) from my friend Jeremy Richman’s Ceremony of Life Event on May 26, 2019:

Jenn, Jeremy and I met because of 12/14, so I didn’t know them before the shooting, but what I came to know of them was an incredible sense of strength, connection, compassion and hope.

Jenn and Jer are such a source of inspiration to so many because of the hope they’ve portrayed.

But we know this comes at a cost trying to overcome the grief and counter it with hope, to not only be resilient, but attempting to understand and prevent future occurrences of violence.

I suspect that many in this room share some of my feelings, a mix of profound sadness, but also possibly mixed with anger, a sense of betrayal and confusion.

Here was a brilliant guy, passionate, compassionate, possessed of an awesome smile who pushed himself and everyone around him to grow, to find our crucible moments,   where we’d summon the courage and fortitude to try to accomplish something outside of our comfort zone, to tear our physical and/or psychological muscles enabling them to become stronger.

For me, there have been several crucible events over the years, challenging and supporting various ideas for the Sodina Project after they embraced it and offered it a home within The Aveille Foundation, Ragnar Relay Races, Tough Mudder, and a couple of Kung Fu Club sessions (for some strange reason, I liked the intense, almost vomit-inducing workouts (maybe it’s something about suffering together?), the getting kicked and punched in the head part? Yeah…not so much.

Given Jenn and Jer’s scientific backgrounds, Jer’s study of Neuropharmacology, and his ongoing thirst for knowledge, they taught us and gave us hope that we could better understand what goes on up here in our brains (pointing to head), to make the invisible, visible.

Jenn and Jeremy, through their founding of The Avielle Foundation,  are changing the narrative, promoting “Brain Health” (instead of mental health) and treating the brain like the complex organ that it is, not some mysterious enigma that the word “mental” seems to conjure.

They put complex brain and behavioral concepts into simple terms most of us can understand. Because of this hope, knowledge, and strength to continue after Avielle was murdered, perhaps we thought Jer was invincible.

For those that were close to him, you know how stubborn he could be.

Maybe he thought of himself as invincible?  Maybe he thought he could fight his way through it?

Maybe he sensed that’s how many people viewed him and he didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

Maybe he knew he wasn’t invincible, but he didn’t want to let on that he had his doubts and that he was struggling, he didn’t show us how vulnerable, how human he was.

A few people in this room unfortunately know the pain of having a child violently taken from them, they’re living with it every day. 

But the vast majority of us in this room can only imagine the toll it must have taken to endure the loss of your only child at the time, seeking ways to prevent violence, constantly speaking about it, telling your story, listening to and absorbing the stories of loss from other survivors, it’s more than anyone should bear.

Despite all of this, here was a guy who worked to reduce the stigma of brain illness and taught brain health first aid to our community so we were better prepared to help someone displaying signs they might be in crisis, so Jer knew better than most, what the signs were and this is what makes his death by suicide so shocking.

And because he educated us, Jenn and many friends around him, saw some of those signs and they did what they were supposed to try to help him. To anyone who questions whether they could’ve prevented this, to get him the help he needed? You did and said the right things to help him, You did and said the right things to help him.

Jeremy would not let himself be vulnerable enough to seek the help he needed.

So where I’ve arrived in my thinking is this: The Jeremy that died by suicide was not the Jeremy I knew when I met him over six years ago. He wasn’t the Jeremy that his family, and friends from Denver, Tucson, Nashville, San Diego and Newtown knew.

Perhaps, there was a stubbornness that he was strong enough to cope with it all, or he was struggling but couldn’t or wouldn’t admit it to us, combined with the fact that he had a brain illness, whether it was depression and/or PTSD. It could have been one or both of those, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t seek the help he needed.

It all points to the insidious nature of brain illnesses that took over the Jeremy we knew and loved and it:

Robbed him of the strength to ask for help

Robbed him of the ability to find some beauty within each day

Robbed him of the joy his children Immy and Owen brought him

It robbed him of hope.

I’m not angry with Jeremy anymore, I empathize with the fact that he suffered from a brain illness that he could not, or would not seek help for.

I’m sad for him, his family and his friends, that he couldn’t get the help he needed.

This is the why the work that Jenn and Jer started in the hours after they were robbed of Avielle, the founding and mission of The Avielle Foundation “to prevent violence and build compassion through neuroscience research, community engagement, and education”, in Avielle’s honor is so crucial to continue in her name, but also so crucial to continue now in Jeremy’s honor as well.

Please join me for a moment of silence.

In this video interview, Sodina volunteer, Scott Wolfman, interviews Anne Groener. Anne discusses the circumstances around her son Chris’ death by suicide. Diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and depression at an early age, she discusses how smart, funny and frustrating he could be at times.

Anne talks about how the support and ties of their family has strengthened since his passing. This strength was tested as her nephew Cory also died by suicide. Chris had attempted suicide previously so Anne and her husband had watched for signs of crisis. Cory’s death by suicide came as a complete shock to the family and left them guessing for reasons.

Anne talks about dealing with the “what-ifs” and what life is like without Chris, imagining what he would be like today and the potential that was lost. She shares her thoughts on her involvement in suicide prevention advocacy and awareness. Someday, the advocates’ hard work will pay off and she advises people to love stronger and better, to talk about things that make us uncomfortable.

She discusses the value of community, connection, empathy and compassion. Awareness is key if you know someone is fragile or struggling and, if you sense something could be wrong, you can try to find a way to reach out.

Anne is involved with Southern Connecticut chapter of The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Here’s a link to the chapter page to learn more about the work they do and donate if you feel moved to do so.

 

Thank you to Phil Keane at Blue Sky Farm Productions and Garrett Udhe for the video!

Photo courtesy of Anne Groener

 

 

Calls to action:

• Visit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) or other organizations on our injury/suicide prevention page to learn more about preventing injuries and suicide.
• The Sodina Project shares stories to foster connection and save lives. This grass-roots movement needs your help in connecting with others. Please share the stories and blog posts with your friends and social networks if they have moved you or made you reflective. You will find sharing options at the end of each post.

If you have a story to share about the death of a loved one as a result of violence, please submit your story here.

Sodina | Voices to Stop Violence

#Sodina | #Voicestostopviolence

 

Emma Jane von Euler | Suicide

On June 17, 2009 my precious daughter, Emma Jane, passed away, five days before her 17th birthday. Emma was beautiful, bright, and articulate, with an effervescent personality. She was a talented musician who shared her musical gifts generously and participated in every musical ensemble she could fit into her schedule. She was a caring daughter, sister, and friend and a bright light in the lives of many, many people.

Emma took her own life.

When Emma killed herself she created a tsunami of destruction that swept up family, friends, teachers, ministers, mentors and neighbors. All of us struggled against the current of guilt, pain, shock and bewilderment. For her immediate family: her father, sister and me, life as we knew it ended.

I’m not sure we will ever fully understand why Emma ended her life; what caused what must have been an incredibly deep sense of despair and hopelessness; or why she couldn’t reach out to us or to the many other caring adults and professionals she had in her life. Nonetheless, in the days, weeks and months after Emma’s death I turned to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) to learn more about suicide and to search for clues that would help explain why my beautiful, bright, talented daughter was gone from our lives.

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