How I Talked to My Son About Suicide

mother comforting a child after loss of a parent to suicide

Real reflections from a mom who’s been there

When my son’s father died by suicide, I had no idea how to explain it.
He was six years old. And I was supposed to find the words for something I barely understood myself.

But I also knew I had to say something. Because silence would only make it scarier. So I started the way I start most hard things—with honesty, and with love.

This post isn’t a guide from a professional. I’m not a therapist. I’m just a mom who had to figure it out in real time, while grieving, while parenting, while trying to show up.
If you’re reading this because you’re walking a similar path, I want to say this up front: You’re not alone.

Here’s what I’ve learned about how to talk to a child about suicide — and a few resources that helped me along the way.

Start with the truth — in words they understand

Kids can feel when something’s off. And if we don’t give them information, they’ll fill in the blanks with something worse.

For my son, I said something like:

“Dad died by suicide. That means his brain was very sick, and it made him think there was no way to feel better. It wasn’t your fault. And you are safe.”

I didn’t use vague phrases like “passed away” or “went to sleep.” That kind of language can confuse kids — or even make them afraid of going to sleep themselves. Being clear doesn’t mean being harsh. It means being loving and real.

Expert tip from Nationwide Children’s Hospital:
“Talking about suicide does not increase a child’s risk — it builds trust and reduces isolation.”

Let emotions happen — theirs and yours

My son didn’t cry much. Not at first. Sometimes he would bring up a memory out of the blue, like it had just happened. Other times he didn’t want to talk at all.

I’ve learned that children can often grieve in bursts. They might ask a heavy question one minute, then run off to play the next. That doesn’t mean they’re not grieving. It just means their brains are processing things in their own way.

There were days when I cried in front of him. I told him I was sad too, and that I missed his dad too. Letting him see that made space for his own feelings. I didn’t need to be perfect. I just needed to be present.

Expert takeaway from Suicide Grief in Children and Adolescents:
“Children grieve in ‘spurts’—brief, intense moments of emotion followed by normal play. Honor their unique process.”

Use books and sideways conversations

I’ve said this before: books save lives.

Reading stories together gave us a safe way to talk about big feelings without staring each other down across the kitchen table. Sometimes I’d ask:

“What do you think the character is feeling?”
“Have you ever felt like that?”

These kinds of “sideways conversations”—while reading, driving, or walking—can feel less intense for kids. They’re still listening. They’re still thinking. But the pressure is lower.

From the AFSP’s guide:
“Use ‘sideways conversations’ (e.g., talking while walking or cooking) to ease pressure and encourage openness.”

Reassure safety — more than once

Even if they don’t say it out loud, kids might wonder:
“If Dad died, could Mom die too?”
“Who’s going to take care of me now?”

I had to say it directly:

“You are safe. You will always be loved. And I will always take care of you.”

And then I said it again. And again. Because kids need to hear it more than once — especially when their world has been shaken. 

From Kids Mental Health Foundation:
“Kids need to know what will stay the same, and who they can count on.”

Encourage questions — and don’t force them

Sometimes he asked things I wasn’t ready for.
“Why did he do it?”
“Didn’t he love us?”

“Did you see his body?”

There are no perfect answers. But I always tried to say something true:

“He loved you very much. But his brain was very sick, and he couldn’t think clearly.”

And when he didn’t ask, I didn’t push. I let him take the lead.
That’s been the pattern ever since — he brings things up when he’s ready. And I meet him there.

From Children’s Hospital Colorado:
“Ask open-ended questions and follow the child’s lead. It’s okay to say ‘I don’t know,’ too.”

Helpful resources I recommend

Final Thoughts

If you’re facing this conversation, I’m so sorry.
But I want you to know — you don’t have to do it perfectly.
You just have to do it with love and truth.

Your child is capable of hearing more than you think.
And you are capable of saying what needs to be said.

I’m sending love to every parent, every caregiver, and every child who has to walk through this kind of loss.

You are not alone.

Picture of Jamie Tafoya

Jamie Tafoya

Jamie Tafoya is a children’s author and Denver native who writes honest, heart-centered stories to help kids and families talk about the hardest parts of life. Her debut book, I’m Small, but I Lost Someone Big, was inspired by her own son’s grief and their journey together after losing his father to suicide. Jamie draws from personal experience, cultural roots, and generational shifts to make space for real conversations—across ages and backgrounds.