There are four of them, and only one of me. I am outnumbered on a regular basis.

I am speaking of my four children under the age of 10. Anyone who is raising kids on their own knows you feel alone even though your children are with you, like the weight of the world is on your shoulders as the responsibility for those little people rests upon you. It can be overwhelming at times.

Now I am a single mother of four children trying to cope with the loss of my father, who took his own life on May 3, 2009.

I am struggling with his suicide and the stigma that goes along with it.

My dad had bipolar disorder (formerly known as manic-depressive illness) and suffered extreme mood swings.

He chose to hide his struggles as best he could. He wasn’t honest with his doctors, therapists, or my mom about what was really going on with him. He often changed his medication without telling my mom. When she would find out he claimed he changed it because he was feeling better and didn’t need the meds anymore.

He didn’t make the connection that it was the medication that was making him feel better and that he should continue to take it. Feeling more like himself, he opted to not take them until mom told the doctors and they urged him to continue. This was an ongoing battle for years.

In May, my mom came to visit my grandparents on the Sunshine Coast for a couple weeks. She and my dad discussed it, and it was decided he was going to stay in Regina to continue work while mom took the time off to visit her parents who were ill. Mom was to spend a week on the coast, then visit the kids and I for the remainder of her time in B.C.

I got a call on the fourth day she was on the coast.

She called asking if I could pick her up at the ferry terminal. Despite mom saying everything was okay when I asked her what was going on, I knew it wasn’t.

Upon arriving back home we had lunch, and afterwards I sat down on the living room floor to play with my baby. Mom sat on the couch across the room and watched us quietly. Something was wrong.

My mom suddenly sat down on the chair close to me grabbing my arm moving me closer towards her saying, “I have something to tell you.”

My mom’s eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, “Dad passed away yesterday.”

Mom did not have all the information at that time, including how he died. We didn’t say the words in that moment, but deep down, we both knew he had died by suicide. Our worst fear was confirmed later.

Some of the memories of that day are clear, most are not. I remember I remained on the floor sobbing uncontrollably into my hands. My 18-month-old baby walked over unsteadily to see what was wrong with her mommy. I hugged her, I hugged her hard. I thought of my other children. Someone needed to get them from school. I called their dad and told him he needed to take the other kids. I called my boyfriend (my youngest daughter’s dad) and told him he needed to come to the house to help with the baby.

Once I knew they were on their way for the children, I gave myself permission to feel everything I was feeling. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

It has been six months since my dad made the decision to end his life. Since his passing, I have gone back to Regina. I drove the long, narrow road in La Fleche he took when he decided to take his life in a baseball field there where he used to play ball as a child.

I stood in the middle of the field, my dad only gone for five days. I closed my eyes, felt the cold wind on my face. I could hear birds singing, it was peaceful there though my heart was broken.

As the sun set, the sky lit up with pink, yellow and red I thought to myself, “This is it. This is where my dad took his last breath.”

I have no regrets going there, because somehow I managed to find temporary peace with what I saw. I will not wonder where he was, or what he saw in those last moments because I gave myself permission to see it too.

I have attended an eight-week suicide support bereavement program, two alumni meetings for the group, and a dove release on Father’s Day.

On Sept. 10, I attended a Suicide Prevention Day event. I was frustrated and disappointed to learn there is no national suicide prevention strategy for Canada in place. There is such a stigma about suicide, it’s overwhelming.

I have spent countless hours researching suicide, signing petitions, reading books, attending meetings and events, just trying to make sense of it all. Where I once wore a silver bracelet on my wrist, I am now sporting an orange rubber suicide prevention and awareness bracelet.

I’ve chosen to be open and honest about my dad’s death. It is vital to talk about your feelings. When I’m crying or just down, my kids now have a better understanding as to why.

I hope and pray this has taught them to be open about their feelings as they know Grandpa wasn’t about his. I hope and pray they will remember seeing me in this kind of pain so later in life if they ever have the feelings my dad did, they remember the pain that was inflicted on those who loved him by his decision, and to always know to ask for help, and there is nothing wrong in doing so.

It is said suicide is a selfish decision, a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I feel like it is a life sentence for those who are left behind. I have met dozens of people who are still attending support groups after losing someone to suicide over 40 years ago. You do not fully recover, you just learn to deal with it better over time.

I sincerely encourage others to look within themselves for strength. We are all stronger than we realize. I especially learned just how strong I can be for my children, and that the answers I seek to make sense of what has happened is an attempt for closure – it is a journey, not a destination.

It will take time to walk the path toward healing... there is no timeline, it will happen as it is meant to as we all grieve in our own time and in our own way.

Tera Williams, Surrey

Help is available

If you are worried about yourself or a family member, help is available by calling The Crisis Intervention and Suicide Prevention Centre of B.C. at 604-872-3311 in Greater Vancouver, or 1-800-SUICIDE across B.C.

In the South Fraser Region (Surrey, White Rock, Langley, and North Delta), the crisis line – 604-951-8855 – also offers 24/seven support.