Support for survivors

Silke Mayerhofer will never forget that black day nine years ago.

"It was our daughter's 11th birthday, and my husband was on the operating table after taking an overdose of narcotics," she said, adding calmly and without any visible emotion as she recalls the events of that day that it was all over in less than 30 seconds.

But her husband's suicide remained a huge shock for a long time. "At first I would sit in the kitchen and just stare into space," said Mayerhofer, 45. "I wanted to get an idea of the emptiness someone must feel when he takes that step."

There was no suicide note and she never found out why her husband took his life after 13 years of married life and five children, suddenly and without warning. Her husband was a successful doctor, with his own practice. "It's beyond comprehension," she sadi, adding that she was unable to feel anything at all.

Address the unspeakable

Nine years later, Mayerhofer is in charge of Relatives of Suicides (AGUS), a support group for suicide survivors in the eastern city of Leipzig, one of about 50 similar groups all over Germany.

It's 2 p.m. on a sunny Saturday afternoon in Leipzig . Mayerhofer is busy brewing large pots of coffee as people enter the room, say hello and take a seat at the table. There is no chit-chat, everyone here has lost a loved one to suicide. Several couples grieve for sons, three women for their partners, a student for her mother.

Coffee is served, and people take turns telling their stories, talking about feelings that keep them from sleeping at night. They are at a loss, lonely, helpless, most of them can't yet grasp what has happened. Their voices break, and words drown in tears.

Some are first-timers, some have attended the meetings for months. "People grieving for a child stay longer," Mayerhofer said. "Those who have lost a partner stop coming when they have found someone new."

It's difficult to give grieving parents hope, she said. Their future is gone: "How do you tell them that it still makes sense to go on living?"

Help and self-help

Mayerhofer began to participate in the sessions shortly after her husband's suicide. With her own experience in mind she became a grief counselor in order to help others. Everyone handles traumatic experiences differently, she said, and many see no reason to live after a child, spouse or parent commits suicide.

Family, friends and colleagues are supportive to a certain extent, Mayerhofer said, but their compassion quickly fades. Without the support group, the survivors would be left alone with their grief and pain.

"Relatives and friends aren't affected like we are," she said. "You also reach the point where you don't want to have to explain your feelings anymore."

The group is different because the feelings are similar. "The support group can bear what even best friends can't," Mayerhofer said.

They sit for hours on end, telling each other how barely a minute has passed over the months when they didn't think of their lost son, daughter or spouse. How they try to go back to work, to live normal lives - and how difficult that is. They speak of friends who cross to the other side of the street because they do not know how to deal with the taboo topic of suicide.

'They all feel guilty'

Again and again, they come back to the question no one can answer: Was it my fault? Who is to blame for the hopeless situation that led to the suicide?

Mayerhofer also asked that question. Did it happen because you weren't listening properly? Or because you did or neglected to do certain things?

"It is difficult to be objective. My husband was 43, it was his decision, 'Life is no longer worth living for me, I am leaving,'" she said. "It was his decision, and today, I can accept it."

Free will: no one else in her group has reached that conclusion yet. The meeting is over, good-byes are said and then the survivors are back on the street, where the sun still shines in a blue sky.

Author: Ronny Arnold / db

Editor: Sean Sinico