I lost my father to suicide

Evie likes scary movies, musicals and Taylor Swift – but there is something that sets her apart.

The 16-year-old hates the way other children at school casually joke about suicide.

“People saying things like ‘I’m going to kill myself if I have to sit another maths test’, you’d be surprised how often people say things like that,” Evie Roodhouse tells me.

“People don’t understand the seriousness, saying they are ‘depressed’ as if it’s a positive thing. I think it’s become even a trend that some people think is cool or funny.”

Evie and younger sister Ada lost their father in 2018, and what they rarely tell anyone is that was suicide. However, Evie’s approach to this deeply personal subject is about to change. She has decided to give a school assembly on the subject.

Lifestyle education

Eight-year-old sister Ada supports Evie’s decision and has experienced her own frustrations: “She [Evie] gets people joking about it,” says Ada, “In my school I just get people, like, complaining about their parents being gone for a week, say on holiday, especially their dad. ‘My dad’s going to this place for a week, and I won’t get to see him.’ ‘Oh he’s not here on Father’s Day.’ Or, ‘he’ll be away for a whole month, that’s almost as much as you.’ – It’s not. It’s really not.”

It’s entirely understandable that, up until now, Evie has been extremely private around the cause of her father’s death. Her presentation on the subject for a room of her peers at Brighton Hill Community School in Basingstoke, would surely be one of the most courageous school assemblies ever given.

Schoolgirl’s assembly on the hardest of subjects

The night before, I met up with Evie along with Mother Caroline and sister Ada. “This is the first time I’ve openly shared my own personal experience, my story so that’s where the nerves are coming in,” Evie says as we get on to the subject of her presentation.

Her previous experience of confiding in friends is that their response varies between asking invasive questions, wanting details that Evie doesn’t want to share, or they feel awkward and change the subject. What Evie wants is for people to be able to talk about the subject and understand how to talk about it, especially if they themselves are struggling.

“With mental health we know that opening up and talking about it is the best thing you can do,” she says. “I think we understand ourselves better if we talk about our mental health. Communication is the best way around the stigma.”

However, this conversation around Evie’s home dining table is going to take us to some dark places, and it occurs to me how difficult it must have been for Caroline to explain what happened, to her young children. Did she have a choice? Could she have invented some other form of death to protect them from the truth?

Caroline explains her decision to tell them. “I had no idea Steve was going to take his own life. On the day I found out, luckily a friend of mine contacted an amazing charity called Winston’s Wish and they gave me some important advice, and that was honesty.

“However, uncomfortable that was, however brutal that was at the time. I’m grateful for that advice – because it’s meant that we’ve always had trust between us.”

Suicide rates in the UK have remained roughly the same for the last two decades, although the 7,055 deaths recorded in 2023 was the highest rate since 1999.

Men are three times more likely to take their own lives, and with Evie and Ada’s father there was no warning and no note to explain why.

Caroline says loss by suicide is “grief with a microphone”. One of the hardest things for her to manage has been her feeling of abandonment.

“I wanted to talk to Steve, and he’s the person responsible for not being here. Trying to get your head round the fact that, yes, they took their own life, but they weren’t in a rational state at that point in time, but then you’re feeling angry at the same time. It’s tiring. It’s exhausting.”

Eight-year-old Ada picks up: “You don’t blame them for being sad – but you’re also angry that they are not here.”

“…And that they didn’t tell you that they were struggling,” adds Caroline.

“They act all happy and fine. It’s quite unusual,” says Ada.

“It doesn’t make sense, does it?” offers Caroline. It is just a glimpse into the impossible conversations, the heartbreak and tears this family has endured.

Photographs of Steve with his children tell of a loving husband and father, hugging his children close, taking pride in his girls and valuing his precious time with them.

Evie tries to explain her own feelings on this, “Rather than someone being taken away from you – that person’s chosen to take themselves away from you.”

“They don’t want to be with you,” says Ada.

Evie picks up: “There’s sadness that they must have been struggling – but you made that decision. You must have thought whatever you had going on, was a bigger deal than me needing a father in my life, and that’s been a big thing for me.”

But Caroline has a consoling thought – a moment she says that changed everything. “It wasn’t that long ago maybe last year I was asked a question that completely knocked me off my feet – and took away most of my anger. I was asked by somebody – ‘What do you think Steve would say if he could come back and speak to you, right now.'”

“And my response to that, knowing what an amazing person he was, is that he would say ‘sorry’ and he didn’t want to cause us any pain. And in that moment imagining him saying ‘sorry’ – took away all my anger.”

Then she adds, “The problem is that replaces the anger with sadness.”

There is a deep chasm in the room. They will never know why. There are no answers. No clues and no way to change that. The profound complexity of emotions is something anyone would struggle with, yet both children Evie have found ways of coping.

“You have the first couple of years of feeling – ‘this is going to be my life now this is how I’m going to feel…’ says Evie. Her emotions break through, she pauses to compose herself then determinedly finishes her point. “…and I think being able to move past that and understand that you are not defined by that loss – and you are more than the person who took themselves away from you – and you are stronger.”

The next day as the assembly loomed Evie emitted quiet confidence. Mum Caroline came to watch and said she felt protective but at the same time “unbelievably proud”.

She also had sage advice on where teenagers can get help themselves, listing school provision and organisations outside of school such as Childline and the Samaritans.

Research recently published by the Mental Health Foundation found a third of young people accessed self-harm content online and the theme this year’s Mental Health Awareness week was community. Evie’s presentation couldn’t have been more appropriate.

She told her peers: “Unfortunately, in my experience the people who don’t talk about it, the people who keep their emotions down and don’t want to speak about those feelings are the people who we lose thorough suicide.”

“They are phenomenal – and the assembly we’ve seen today which Evie ran was one of the most impressive things I’ve seen in my career. Not just because she was able to tackle a subject that’s very difficult to her, but to do it to her peers is doubly difficult. And I was also proud of the way the children responded.”

It is rare this subject is talked about, and it must be done sensitively. Evie gave a masterclass in how to do it.

Anyone feeling emotionally distressed or suicidal can call Samaritans for help on 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org in the UK. In the US, call the Samaritans branch in your area or 1 (800) 273-TALK.