Media Release: Crisis Centre Responds to BC Coroners Service Review of Youth and Young Adult Deaths by Suicide

Vancouver, BC – 10/16/2025 — The BC Coroner’s Service has released Creating Connection, Supporting Strengths: A Review of Youth and Young Adult Deaths by Suicide In British Columbia, 2019-2023, a reminder that too many young people are dying by suicide. The Crisis Centre of BC acknowledged the findings confirm what we know from our frontline responder work: the urgent need for community-based, connected care that meets youth where they are. 

“Creating connection is key to suicide prevention,” says Stacy Ashton, executive director at the Crisis Centre of BC. At the Crisis Centre of BC, everything we do begins with connection. Last year alone, we went into over 350 classrooms talking directly to high school students about reaching out for help. 

“Last year, thousands of young people called one of our distress lines. They’re doing what we ask of them when they feel like they want to die: they are reaching out to crisis lines. But when the call ends, too often the system leaves them without the ongoing support that could help them live through their pain. 

Across BC, care often stops at treating depression or anxiety, but suicide itself is rarely addressed head-on. We know what works to help people survive the kind of pain that makes them want to die. The most effective steps are simple, evidence-based, and deeply human: 

  1. Create a formal safety plan in collaboration with the person having thoughts of suicide
  2. Limit access to means that can end a life
  3. Ensure a warm handoff to continuing care – not just a cold referral form
  4. Reach out after discharge from hospital to remind the person they are not alone.

These measures directly address the fact of suicidal pain, no matter what is causing it. 

“When someone goes to hospital with a fever, we bring the fever down because the fever itself can kill people. When someone is suicidal, we look for a diagnosis to reach – and if we don’t find one, we often send the young person home, hoping the pain will pass. That’s not care; that’s triage. And triage means deciding who gets help instead of making sure everyone does,” states Ashton. 

The Coroner’s report found that only 60% of the youth and young adults who died by suicide met the criteria for a mental health diagnosis – this means that four in ten would not have qualified for mental health care at all. 

Even so, most of these young people reached out. Nearly eight in ten (79%) had seen a mental health practitioner within a year, 25% within a week of their death, and almost one in four had been hospitalized. Forty six % had been prescribed medication in the 12 months prior to their death. They did what people do in crisis: they sought help.  Despite well-known barriers to care, the young people documented in the BC Coroner’s report did their level best to live. 

“We recognize these young people,” says Ashton. “They reached out to us, to doctors, to teachers, to friends. The truth is, our systems weren’t built to hold them through their pain. That’s what has to change.” 

The Crisis Centre of BC is helping to build a crisis care continuum designed to respond directly to suicidal crisis, wherever it begins. Whether someone calls 9-1-1, talks to a doctor, or walks into an emergency room, connection must be the constant. A truly connected system links every point of contact to 24/7, no-barrier support through crisis lines.

Crisis responders meet people where they are,  over the phone, by text, or through collaboration with community partners. In regions where 911 routes mental-health and crisis calls to crisis lines, 80% of those calls are resolved safely without police or hospital involvement. For the remaining 20% who need in-person support, crisis lines can activate mobile mental-health teams such as CRCL, which pair clinicians with people who have lived experience of crisis. These teams provide care, not custody, diverting people from high-cost, high-harm responses toward help that heals.

“We already know an integrated crisis care continuum is what our province needs to respond to the complex mental-health and addictions crisis playing out in our homes and streets,” said Ashton. “Connection and warm follow-up must be at the centre of every response. Crisis lines are incredibly flexible tools: available 24 hours a day, every day. We can intervene before someone reaches an emergency room, follow up after hospital discharge, and support families and friends who are struggling to keep someone safe. There are many ways people fall through the cracks, but we can catch them with systems built on connection.”

Read more about our work towards a crisis care continuum.

Media Contact
Stacy Ashton
Executive Director, Crisis Centre of BC
sashton@crisiscentre.bc.ca 

Jeffrey Preiss
Director, Development & Communications
jpreiss@crisiscentre.bc.ca

Backgrounder

Creating Connection, Supporting Strengths: A Review of Youth and Young Adult Deaths by Suicide In British Columbia, 2019-2023.

The report makes five key recommendations: 

  1. Create and implement a provincial suicide-risk-reduction framework specifically focused on youth and young adults.
  2. Improve data collection, information sharing and reporting processes to better understand and support diverse communities throughout B.C.
  3. Review existing social and emotional health-related resources to ensure they meet the needs of the diversity of school-age students in B.C.
  4. Create an educational model to ensure doctors, nurses, paramedics and other emergency medical professionals are appropriately trained in early identification, assessment, management and follow-up of youth and young adults who are at higher risk of death by suicide.
  5. Co-develop a “third spaces” strategy to create venues for young people to develop and maintain connections in their own communities.

 

When the first heartbreak hits

The call came late one night. Alex’s voice was quiet, hesitant. “I know other people have it worse,” they said. “But I don’t know how to stop crying.”

Just a week earlier, Alex’s first serious relationship had ended. They had shared everything with their partner – plans, playlists, secrets, hope. And suddenly, it was gone. Their friends told them it was “just a break-up,” but to Alex it felt like losing part of who they were.

When Alex reached out to the Crisis Centre, they expected to be told to move on or that time heals all wounds. Instead, they were asked a simple question: “What’s hurting most right now?”

That question opened a door. Alex talked about how quiet their apartment felt, how hard it was to eat, how impossible it seemed to face another day of pretending to be okay.

The responder listened. Not with solutions, but with presence—with the message that it’s human to grieve what mattered.

At the Crisis Centre of BC, we know crisis can come in many forms. Sometimes it’s a break-up, a family conflict, or the weight of expectations. Sometimes it’s thoughts of suicide. Whatever it is, your pain deserves to be heard.

You don’t have to wait until it feels “bad enough.” If it matters to you, it matters to us.

Crisis lines are available across British Columbia 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, please call:

  • 9-8-8 (call or text)
  • 310-6789 (no area code needed)
  • 1-800-SUICIDE / 1-800-784-2433
  • 604-872-3311

When an “F” feels like the end of the world

It was just one letter – an “F” scrawled in red at the top of a paper – but for Maya, it might as well have been a flashing warning light.

She had never failed anything before. Through high school and into her first year at university, she had built her identity around perfect grades, scholarships, and the unspoken expectation that she would excel. Her parents were proud, her professors encouraging, her friends admiring. That’s who she was! …or was it? Suddenly, she wasn’t sure.

She knew she had been struggling lately with her course – the pace of everything felt like a whirlwind, and with her part time job she’d just started, studying had taken a back seat for a while. But she thought she’d been catching up, doing better. And then, suddenly, this F.

She stared at the mark until it blurred. A thousand thoughts spun in her min. What would my family think? What if I’m not who they think I am? What if I can’t do this?

That night, Maya found herself calling a number she had seen on a poster near campus: 310-6789, the mental health support line.

When the responder answered, Maya apologized right away. “I know this isn’t a real crisis,” she said. “It’s just a bad grade.”

As she said those last few words, she heard her voice shake. Just a bad grade – so why did it feel like such a big deal?

The responder paused. “It sounds like this really matters to you,” they said gently.

And that was the moment Maya began to exhale. There was no judgment, no checklist, no ranking of her pain against anyone else’s. Just someone listening, helping her untangle the panic from the disappointment, the fear from the self-blame.

By the end of the call, Maya wasn’t “fixed.” The F still stung. But it didn’t feel like the end of the world any more. She was able to see it for what it was: an unfortunate grade. A sign that she’d been more stressed out than she realized. A chance to do better next time. And she’d slowed down, stopped spiraling; didn’t feel alone or worthless any more.

At the Crisis Centre, when you reach out, we meet you where you are – with compassion, not a pretense that we have all the answers. We know crisis doesn’t always look like an emergency. Sometimes it’s a single moment when your world shifts: an unexpected grade, a job loss, a friendship ending. Crisis is whatever crisis feels like for you.

Crisis lines are available across British Columbia 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, please call:

  • 9-8-8 (call or text)
  • 310-6789 (no area code needed)
  • 1-800-SUICIDE / 1-800-784-2433
  • 604-872-3311

MEDIA RELEASE: The Crisis Centre of BC welcomes the Report on the Budget 2026 Consultation

Vancouver, BC – September 2025  — The Crisis Centre of BC welcomes the Report on the Budget 2026 Consultation and applauds the Committee’s recognition of the urgent need to add a mental health option for 911 callers who are experiencing emotional crisis or distress. 

“Right now, police or ambulance are automatically dispatched to suicide and mental health crisis related calls through 911,” said Stacy Ashton, Executive Director of the Crisis Centre of BC and Chair of the BC Crisis Line Network. “If we divert these calls to crisis lines, our responders can provide immediate emotional support, address the risk of suicide safely, and resolve crisis before it escalates.”

BC’s highly trained crisis responders already provide 24/7 support through established crisis lines, helping people in distress find connection, and hope. Fully 98% of our calls are resolved without the need for police or ambulance. By making crisis lines directly accessible as part of the 911 system, we could save public resources while ensuring people receive the right support at the right time.

The Centre urges the Province to use the momentum of the Budget 2026 recommendations to move forward with a fully integrated crisis response model:

  • Establishing mental health crisis lines as the fourth option within 911, alongside police, fire, and ambulance.
  • Reducing reliance on costly and often traumatizing emergency interventions in cases where a supportive, phone-based response is sufficient.
  • Positioning BC as a national leader in suicide prevention and mental health crisis support by leveraging existing, proven crisis line infrastructure.

“With the right investments, BC can ensure that every person in crisis receives care that is effective, respectful, and life-saving,” added Ashton. “The 911 reforms outlined in this report give us a unique chance to make that vision a reality.”

Media Contact
Stacy Ashton
Executive Director, Crisis Centre of BC
sashton@crisiscentre.bc.ca 

Jeffrey Preiss
Director, Development & Communications
jpreiss@crisiscentre.bc.ca

Thank you for helping us celebrate our amazing volunteers!

At the Crisis Centre, our volunteers are the heartbeat of everything we do. On August 19th, we came together for our annual Summer Jamboree to BBQ, eat, play games and spend time together! The event was a joyful celebration of our dedicated volunteers and, thanks to the generosity of several local businesses, it was extra special.

We’re proud to spotlight these caring community partners who donated prizes to help us say “thank you” in style:

Thank you so much to these businesses for being a part of our story. Each gift is a reminder of the strong community spirit that surrounds our work. We’re deeply grateful for these prizes which help us honour the volunteers who give their time, energy, and compassion to keep the Centre running!

From Darkness into Light

Written by: Jeffrey Liu

As mist coats the surface of the lake and the silence of night gives way to birdsong, the scene is set for a reflective early morning. I join over a hundred others gathered well before the break of dawn for Darkness into Light, an opportunity to remember those we have lost to suicide. We will walk side-by-side, starting in the pitch-black of night, and moving until the break of dawn. The timing is intentional, the slow unveiling of daylight represents hope for those who are feeling lost. 

160 of us in Vancouver are joined by 150,000 others around the world, our chapter closing out an event that began 19 hours earlier in New Zealand. Globally, the events will raise over 5 million dollars for suicide prevention efforts, ensuring an untold many experiencing crises of their own will be able to access the resources they need. The event saves lives on a global scale, a delightful byproduct of showing up for our community.

At the start line, the atmosphere is surprisingly lively. Brisk night air and dim tea lights encourage us to huddle shoulder-to-shoulder. Those sipping coffee take it upon themselves to keep the rest awake with pleasantries. A steady stream of conversation takes many from dark into dawn, much of it lighthearted and delivered with a smile. The topic of suicide is met with empathy and never pity, stripping it of its stigma.

I realized this the first time I was asked what brought me to Darkness Into Light. I hesitated and gave into my natural inclination to deflect the question. ‘I am writing a piece on it’, I say reluctantly. ‘Yes, but what is the draw of writing this piece for you?’, they pressed. It is obvious they know I am dancing around the question, far too willing to adhere to small talk protocol. I take a moment to reset, to give my candid answer.

I am here, I admit, because I experienced a depressive period years ago. One where I recessed into a headspace of growing insecurities and my indifference let it dictate how I felt. Without the words or the vulnerability to share how I felt, my suffering only intensified until I began to have suicidal thoughts. My episode came to a head when I felt suicide became my only option. With nothing to lose, I begrudgingly opened up to family and friends about the thoughts that plagued me. It was not always received positively, but to have someone rooting for you is enough to start repealing the mental blocks that complacency creates. There, presented as plainly as possible, was the power of people. Now that I have left that low point, I want to help shoulder the weight of despondency for others. That is why I am here. 

‘Yes, that is hard. But I am happy you are here today’, he replies. I smile and ask what brings him here.

Many attend in memory of loved ones. I knew this coming into the event and it was a point of unease for me. A sense that, having been fortunate enough to not lose someone to suicide, I will be unable to connect with other walkers. Isn’t it so wonderful to be surprised? 

Everyone serves to benefit from the gift of patience, here are people who understand how distressing it is to be deprived of it. Whereas community has generally become a meaningless buzzword, its role unclear in an increasingly isolated society, here it blossoms into something that is felt. Each and every interaction was a joy, everybody seemed to adopt a how are you, really? attitude as their attention was at your disposal to provide the space to express yourself. I rarely found myself talking about the past, which seemed antithetical in the process of getting to know someone. Perhaps the commitment to moving forward, a theme of the event, became contagious. It is exciting to be characterized by your intentions and wishes, not limited by a past self that you hardly recognize anymore. The future just felt so much bigger, there was still the whole morning to go! What are you looking forward to over the weekend? What has you counting down the days? What’s next? Personally, I could not wait to have a nap.

Darkness into Light takes place annually, and I strongly encourage you to attend next year’s event. It is a great way to sift through the often alienating bustle of the city, a way to feel attuned to an intimate community, where connections are genuine and impactful. Contributions from the event allow an untold many to access mental health resources worldwide, equipping them with invaluable life-preserving skills. Although, I guarantee you will find the most tangible impressions happening closer to home. 

Between now and then, there are many other great options to get involved. For those who have lost someone to suicide, the Crisis Centre holds a community gathering, Take a Walk With Us, quarterly in Pacific Spirit Park. Your generosity maintains this vital space for connection, and I ask that you consider making a donation to the Centre’s Bereavement Fund. Regardless of what you may be able to give, the Crisis Centre is here to offer support to all. We only require you to keep an open mind and to be respectful stewards of the relationships that keep us whole. You are as fundamental of an ambassador for suicide prevention as anybody else. Take care of yourself and do not be afraid to provide yourself with whatever you may need. When you are ready, extend a hand to those around you – patience is the most impactful gift you can offer. With your help, we can build a more resilient community.

Crisis lines are available across British Columbia 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, please call:

  • 9-8-8 (call or text)
  • 310-6789 (no area code needed)
  • 1-800-SUICIDE / 1-800-784-2433
  • 604-872-3311

 

5 Myths About Planned Giving

Myth 1: You have to be wealthy.
Planned giving is for anyone who wants to make a difference—no matter the size of the gift.

Myth 2: Your family will receive less.
Legacy gifts are arranged after your loved ones are taken care of.

Myth 3: It’s too complicated.
Most planned gifts are easy to arrange with a few lines in your will or a change to a beneficiary form.

Myth 4: I have to tell the charity.
You don’t—but letting us know helps us honour your legacy.

Myth 5: A small gift doesn’t matter.
Every gift creates impact. Every act of compassion shapes the future.

Your legacy can save lives. It can create peace in someone’s darkest moment. It can be the voice that answers a call when no one else does. If you’re ready to start that conversation, we’re here.

 

Why Leave a Legacy Gift?

Ready to get started? Here’s how.

Bereavement Series: Mary’s story

Published July 18th, 2025

Written by: Isabel Munsie  

We are sharing personal stories from those who have experienced suicide grief. These reflections may offer connection, comfort, or a sense of understanding to others navigating a similar loss. This is one story in our series. You can find all of our stories on our updates page.

This story discusses themes that readers may find upsetting. If you or someone you know is struggling or needs help, support is available.

Mary met Philip for coffee in 2010 after matching on Eharmony. Coffee turned into dinner, which led to a relationship, which culminated in marriage. It was easy for Mary to be drawn to Philip— he was handsome, funny and had a natural charisma that kept their conversation flowing as they navigated the early stages of dating. 

In 2013 Philip proposed on Christmas by asking Mary’s niece to test out the filming capabilities of his new IPad, whereupon he proceeded to get down on one knee and pop the question in front of Mary’s family. Mary, the more reserved half to Philip’s extroverted half, would have preferred a quieter affair, but was happy to accept the proposal nonetheless. The act of balancing one another was already a part of their dynamic and would continue during their marriage when they tied the knot two years later. 

Philip loved to host people, and during their dinners they balanced the tasks by him cooking the meat and Mary preparing the side dishes. And when it came to physical activity, Philip would gently push Mary outside of her comfort zone, guiding her on walks, hikes and bike rides— where even if he overtook her, he would always wait patiently for her to catch up. In turn, she supported his endeavours with triathlons and later his Iron Man training. “I went to every race he attended. It didn’t matter if we had to be up at 6, I’d be there.” She was proud of everything he accomplished, both physically and in his career as a software engineer, and he in turn valued her patience and practical, calm nature. Their marriage was a stable and fulfilling partnership.

In the Spring of 2021 Philip suffered a back injury and experienced sciatica in its aftermath. Sciatica is characterized by an injury to the sciatic nerves causing pain, inflammation and tingling. Sometimes it goes away on its own as it had for Philip in a previous instance, but other times it becomes chronic and complicates other localized pain, as it did with Philip’s second experience. It was the first time that “he had an injury that left him unable to exercise in the scheduled, regimented and rigorous way that he was accustomed to.” 

When somebody builds their life, happiness and mental-wellbeing around a routine, and that routine is disrupted, it becomes a loss of life in its own right. Philip passed from suicide in 2023— a decision that has impacted many, but which deserves empathy. 

Mary’s dog

When Mary’s initial shock subsided, she was left with a persisting denial. In our culture, we have popularized “the five stages of grief” as a linear roadmap for grief, when that couldn’t be further from most peoples’ experiences. Denial is touted as the first of these stages, when in fact it can pop up at any time in the grieving process and linger for far longer than one might expect. Mary believed the reality of her situation was too great for her system to handle, and she found that she frequently had to remind herself of the truth, repeatedly breaking down the barriers of compartmentalization. Only recently has she been able to acutely sit with the grief. “I still don’t want it. I still don’t like it, but I’m no longer actively pushing it away like in the beginning.”

In the immediate weeks and months after her husband’s passing, Mary grounded herself in the present by taking care of their dog. She had wanted a small dog; he had wanted a large one— in the end, he won. But Mary was glad she had a large, active dog to go on walks with and take care of. It became a constant in her routine.

“I still don’t want it. I still don’t like it, but I’m no longer actively pushing it away like in the beginning.”

Mary sought counselling in the immediate aftermath, and then a friend suggested an eight week online grief support group. Then later, she attended the Crisis Centre’s walking group and from there was referred to our in-person support group. For Mary, having the sense of community of the in-person events and groups was particularly healing. “Other people in the group were able to articulate things that I was feeling, that I either couldn’t bring myself to say or couldn’t find a way to say.” She was able to form connections easier, even meeting a woman with similar circumstances to whom she could further open up. Mary cites attending the groups as crucial in moving through her avoidance, and urges those processing grief to seek out support groups when possible, even if they seem daunting. Being in a group space is beneficial even if you’re not the one doing the bulk of the talking or processing.

Support also extends to the immediate circle of our friends and family. There too, Mary has some sage advice: When offering support, give space for the griever to speak freely, explore memories and show up in whatever emotional state they currently reside— even when they are in the depths of their sadness. Avoid platitudes such as “they’re in a better place,” or “it was God’s plan,” or “everything happens for a reason.” Mary also emphasizes that especially in the early weeks and months, people who want to reach out and offer support should do just that, instead of asking the griever how they best want to be supported. Often, the last thing someone wants to do in the throws of grief is use their limited energy to advocate for their needs. 

Recently, Mary has been returning to the routines her and Philip used to share with one another: post-walk ice creams at their favourite parlour, walks in the deep woods, even visiting Algonquin Park, where Philip would camp yearly with friends. And within herself, Mary honours Philip’s generosity. Philip was the type of person to pay for educational courses for his nephew when he was lost on what to do with school, or to buy Mary’s mom a back massager when she was experiencing back pain. Mary tries to emulate his thoughtfulness with others, and keep his humorous spark alive as well, thinking of him often when she meets people with the same sarcastic edge; as with one man at her support group who had the whole room laughing even in moments of darkness. 

One of the first subjects Mary brought up in our conversation was her recent foray into vocal lessons. She had once been in a choir and was looking to brush up on her musicality before joining one once again. At the end of our conversation, she brought up the lessons once more and stumbled upon a beautiful metaphor for the grief journey: For the longest time after Philip’s death she couldn’t listen to music, and then she could only listen to music without lyrics, and then she found herself listening to the album with their wedding song, and finally as part of her vocal lessons she’s been learning to sing the music from said album. Every individual journey through grief takes a different path, but in the end we’re all looking to regain our voices.

Crisis support is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, call or text 9-8-8 from anywhere in Canada or the US.

If you have experienced a suicide loss, support is available. For resources, contact information, and more details about the suicide grief support offered by the Crisis Centre, see our Suicide Grief Support page.

Our bereavement program relies on donations. If you feel called to, you can make a contribution here.

MEDIA ADVISORY: Supporting Mental Health Amid Difficult News Cycles: Crisis Centre of BC Urges Media to Share 310-6789 Crisis Line

Vancouver, BC — June 17, 2025 – With British Columbians increasingly affected by distressing news, including climate-related disasters like wildfires, international conflicts, tariff uncertainty, and political unrest, the Crisis Centre of BC is urging news outlets to include mental health crisis resources in their coverage.

The 310-6789 mental health crisis line is BC’s primary line offering free, confidential, and immediate support to anyone in British Columbia, 24 hours a day. The Crisis Centre encourages journalists, producers, and editors to reference this number in stories covering traumatic or emotionally challenging topics.

“When the news feels overwhelming, many people in our communities experience anxiety, fear, or uncertainty. People directly affected by the events may want help to think through their next steps,” said Stacy Ashton, Executive Director of the Crisis Centre of BC. “We want to remind folks that they are not alone. Support is just a phone call away.”

By integrating mental health crisis resources into media coverage, journalists, editors, and producers can play a pivotal role in connecting individuals to crisis support lines.

Key Information:

  • BC Crisis Line: 310-6789 (no area code needed, available 24/7 across BC).
  • Who It’s For: Anyone in BC experiencing emotional distress, anxiety, loneliness, fear, uncertainty, or mental health concerns.
  • What We Ask: When covering stories related to traumatic events, please include a note encouraging the public to contact the 310-6789 line for support.

Additional Resources in BC

  • 1-800-SUICIDE is the BC suicide prevention and intervention phone line.
  • 9-8-8 is the national suicide crisis phone and text line.

Media Contact:

Jeffrey Preiss
Director, Development & Communications
jpreiss@crisiscentre.bc.ca

Bereavement Series: Nooria’s story

Published June 6th, 2025

Written by: Isabel Munsie  

We are sharing personal stories from those who have experienced suicide grief. These reflections may offer connection, comfort, or a sense of understanding to others navigating a similar loss. This is one story in our series. You can find all of our stories on our updates page.

This story discusses themes that readers may find upsetting. If you or someone you know is struggling or needs help, support is available.

Nooria arrived from Pakistan to Canada in 2002 after previously fleeing Afghanistan during the rise of the war in the 1990s. For many international citizens seeking political asylum, the transition from their homeland to a brand new country can be jarring, but Nooria emphasizes that she and her family felt blessed to be welcomed into the safety of British Columbia. Above all else, Nooria values the support of family and having them by her side was pivotal not only for the massive adjustment of immigrating to a new country, but in every stage of life that followed— including the passing of her late husband from suicide.

Roohullah reached out to Nooria in 2013 on Facebook. They had attended high school together in Pakistan and Roohullah was looking to connect with people from his past that had also moved to Canada. Even though she couldn’t remember meeting him in school, the two of them started to chat online and their relationship quickly began to prosper. By 2014 they were married and Nooria had packed her life up once again, this time moving across the country to live with Roohullah in Toronto.

Nooria remembers their early years of marriage with a complicated suite of emotions. In her culture, men are expected to be the head of the household and subsume the duties of looking after their parents as they age. Roohullah took the role of provider very seriously, working long and tedious hours running a breakfast restaurant in Toronto while also dutifully looking after his aging parents. Unfortunately, this left Nooria often feeling lonely and without support, as her own family remained on the West Coast. To compensate, she threw herself into studying to become an early childhood educator and visited her family whenever she could.

Things came to a boiling point after the birth of her son in 2017. After a difficult birth by C-section, it was revealed that her son would need to remain in the hospital for monitoring. Days turned into weeks, turned into months— and finally, 8 months after he was born, he was cleared to go home. Home for Nooria, was where her family resided. More than ever before, she needed the support of her mother and sister. Roohullah would remain in Toronto to continue running his business and stay with his parents. A divide had been created between the two of them, and geography was to grow that divide even further.

Roohullah did eventually join Nooria in British Columbia in early 2019, but sadly, in the summer of 2020 she received news her husband had died by suicide. “My brain turned off and separated itself from my body.” Dissociation and derealization are common coping mechanisms in the grieving process. For Nooria, they were necessary to get through the difficult weeks and months ahead. In many cultures, including South Asia, suicide is a taboo subject, even more so when religious values play a role. When people experience suicide loss within a system that emphasizes suicide as a sin or failure, the blame is passed around, leading to a toxic cycle of division and silence. This exact cycle is where Nooria initially found herself.

Roohullah’s family, grieving in their own way, placed the blame onto Nooria, looking for a scapegoat for their own complicated emotions. It is worth emphasizing that no one is ever to blame for the actions of another, and the choice to extend empathy and support is always the better option over blame and isolation.

Nooria

Thankfully, Nooria’s story extends beyond the narrative placed upon her by others. She had the strength of her family behind her the entire time, offering her endless support: emotionally, financially, spiritually. Her son was still her number one priority and she once again threw herself into motherhood. She would take long walks with him in nature, giving herself over to the elements and God while freely directing her anger and pain to the sky above.

Every morning she prayed for guidance and hope, beginning a journey that would transform and deepen her spirituality and knowledge base. The journey began in earnest when she signed up for a conscious grief summit after its program mysteriously found itself in her email inbox. Attending the summit opened her up to a new world completely: “What I was learning about grief gave me a voice for the feelings I was already experiencing.” Without language and concepts to filter our feelings through, it can be difficult to process them effectively— one of many reasons why suicide loss resources are necessary in our communities.

After the summit, Nooria dove headfirst into her healing journey. She took classes in everything from forgiveness mediation, to yoga, to energy and chakra healing. With every new class she attended or practice she followed, she took wisdom from the experience and carried it over into the next. All the while, she still returned to the guidance of her ismaili faith (present Imam) and God. “I learned to trust the universe and trust the process.” Through her spirituality, she was able to find forgiveness: for herself, for her husband, for his family. “I chose love, life and healing rather than focusing on the past.”

Every person is on their own path— and when one walks a path of grief, they alone decide how best to make peace with their feelings. Some people may want to forever hold onto their past and cherish the memories of a lost loved one, but for others it’s best to prioritize the present and walk towards a future of peace and contentment.

Nooria wishes to spread a message of peace and comfort to those who read her story or cross her path. As she always has, she places emphasis on community and urges those who would like to get involved to volunteer or donate to organizations that offer support for suicide loss— or to reach out and build support bridges of your own.

Along her journey, Nooria learned and practiced the indigenous Hawaiian prayer for forgiveness (ho’oponopono). A powerful tool for many in the grieving process, I find it a fitting note on which to end her story: “I’m sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you, I love you.”

Crisis support is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, call or text 9-8-8 from anywhere in Canada or the US.

If you have experienced a suicide loss, support is available. For resources, contact information, and more details about the suicide grief support offered by the Crisis Centre, see our Suicide Grief Support page.

Our bereavement program relies on donations. If you feel called to, you can make a contribution here.

Help Make An Impact

Join us in responding to the mental health crisis and in fostering compassionate, connected, suicide-safer communities.

Donate Volunteer
Our Impact The topic and word "suicide" is not so scary after taking a training from the Crisis Centre of BC. I'm grateful to have been here today, and am hopeful that I can help people in the future. safeTALK participant, Agassiz