West Georgia Woman Magazine September 2016 by West Georgia Woman Magazine/Angel Media, LLC

Woman

Complimentary

September 2016

West Georgia

Pat Dickson Leaning On Faith

The Faces Of Suicide A Loving Tribute

This publication is dedicated in loving memory of all of those who have lost their lives to suicide. They will remain forever in our hearts ...

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What’s inside... 10

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38 44 46 48

Triumph Over Tragedy

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying The Faces Of Suicide

Know The Warning Signs Of Suicide

Tristan Alexander Brooks

Amanda Nicole Broussard A Second Chance Surviving? No, Thriving! To Die For A Little While Elizabeth Jo Lawler

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72 75 77

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Jullian Amber Lawson Daniel James McKee Out Of The Darkness Johnnie Mack Wyatt She’s Got Game Daily Fare Obesity, Depression And Suicide Understanding The Warning Signs Of Suicide In Children Celebrate Her Success Kidz Korner

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A Painful Reality

One year ago, I had no idea what an impact the month of September would have on me and my family. September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, and, ironically, on Sept. 17, 2015, during the month that we were all supposed to be so aware of this devastating cause of death of so many people around the world, my precious nephew, Tristan, tragically died by suicide. The lives of those of us who loved him were forever changed on that day. This issue has been, by far, the most difficult for me to create. Because of the sensitive subject matter, and the fact that it will be one year this month since Tristan passed away, it has taken so much longer to complete. I have cried more tears, and experienced more sadness and depression while working on this issue than I can fully describe to you. I created this issue to honor and remember Tristan, to honor others in West Georgia who have lost their lives to suicide, and to honor the loved ones who have been left behind to deal with the grief and devastating pain that comes with it. I also wanted to share these stories to perhaps help those who have lost loved ones, and hopefully help others who may be considering suicide. Although I tried to explain it to the best of my ability, I cannot fully convey to you the brokenness, pain and complicated emotions that family members and friends endure after a loved one's death by suicide. Please read this issue in its entirety, and make earnest plans to talk with your loved ones about suicide. The only way we can prevent more of these devastating deaths from occurring is to be real, honest and open with the ones we love, and have real conversations about suicide. Their lives may depend on you having these conversations with them. I wish I had talked with Tristan and asked him if he had ever had thoughts of suicide before it was too late. Unfortunately, there are no "do-overs" in life, but it brings me a small amount of comfort to know he passed away knowing that I loved him with all of my heart and soul. I told him and showed him so often throughout his too-short life. I miss him so very much. Losing our sweet Tristan left a hole in our hearts that can never be repaired. Please say a prayer for Tristan and our family as we approach the anniversary of his death on Sept. 17. May I ask a favor of you? On September 10, World Suicide Prevention Day, thousands of people around the world will light a single candle near a window at 8 p.m. to show their support for suicide prevention, to remember lost loved ones and for the survivors of suicide. Would you light a candle with us to remember our loved ones included in this issue and the other beautiful souls who left this world too soon? We have also created a video in honor of our loved ones who were included in this issue. Please go to our website, www.westgeorgiawoman.com, or our Facebook page @WestGaWoman to see the video. In This Issue We have a very special woman as our cover feature this month. Mrs. Pat Dickson is such a sweetheart. She is a kind and loving woman who is held dear in the hearts of many in the West Georgia community, and she has endured more devastating tragedy in her 82 years than most. Her son, Billy, tragically died by suicide 19 years ago, and she has lost three more of her children since his death, but her incredible faith, friends and church family has seen her through these hard times. Read Pat's incredible story of hope, faith and love on page 10. Beginning on page 23, we honor the faces of suicide in West Georgia, which includes remembrances and photos contributed by their loved ones, and two very inspiring stories of some courageous people who almost gave up on life and survived. As always, please thank our valuable supporters, our advertisers, and let them know you appreciate their support of West Georgia Woman so we can continue to share with you these stories of amazing women. Blessings,

Publisher

Me, with Tristan.

My heart.

Finding our voice. Knowing our value. Making a difference. TM

West Georgia Woman is a voice for and about the women who live and work in West Georgia. Our mission is to engage, inspire, and cultivate a cohesive community for all women in West Georgia by sharing our hopes, our dreams and our lives. This magazine would not be possible without the inclusion of our advertisers. Please be sure to show your support by doing business with these VIP’s (very important partners) so we will be able to continue to share with you our stories about amazing West Georgia Women! Please be sure to tell them we sent you!

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Email your suggestions to: features@westgeorgiawoman.com Send your upcoming events to: calendar@westgeorgiawoman.com Send your wedding or event photos to: photos@westgeorgiawoman.com The views, opinions, positions or strategies expressed by the contributing authors are theirs alone, and do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions, positions or strategies of Angel Media, LLC., West Georgia Woman magazine or any employee thereof. Angel Media, LLC. makes no representations as to accuracy, completeness, correctness, suitability, or validity of any information in this publication and will not be liable for any errors, omissions, or delays in this information or any losses, injuries, or damages arising from its display or use. This issue is not intended to imply that it will prevent a suicide from occurring by reading the editorial within. All editorial is for informational purposes only. If you or someone you know is suicidal please go to the nearest emergency room or dial 911 for help.

Volume 1 • Issue 11 September 2016

Publisher/Editor

Angela Dailey angela@westgeorgiawoman.com

Copy Editor Editorial Contributor

Facebook.com/WestGeorgiaWoman

Shala Hainer shala@westgeorgiawoman.com

@WestGAWoman

Photographer for cover Keith May

Instagram.com/westgawoman

Photographer for pages 2-3 & 6 Rachel Dobson

Inspiring women wanted. Do you know an interesting woman who should be on the cover of West Georgia Woman? Is there a special project or organization you would like us to feature in our magazine? Let us know!

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Need a copy? Get yours at Kroger, Publix, Southern Home and Ranch, Food Depot (Maple Street), Palladino’s Pizza and A+ Consignment in Carrollton. Publix at Mirror Lake and Piggly Wiggly in Bowdon as well as over 500 grocery stores, convenience stores, other retail locations and medical offices throughout West Georgia! Interested in advertising? Email sales@westgeorgiawoman.com or rosa@westgeorgiawoman.com All submissions will be included as space is available. West Georgia Woman reserves the right to reject or edit any submissions that are not in compliance with our editorial policy. If you wish to have your submission returned, please include a self addressed stamped envelope along with your submission. West Georgia Woman is a monthly publication of Angel Media, LLC. All contents of this issue are copyright 2016. West Georgia Woman magazine, its logo and “Finding our voice. Knowing our value. Making a difference.” are trademarks of Angel Media, LLC. All rights reserved. Reproduction without permission is strictly prohibited.

Mail correspondence to: West Georgia Woman P.O. Box 2782 Carrollton, GA 30112

Editorial Contributors

Sara Anderson, LPC, Charlene Brooks, William Brooks, Austin Broussard, Carol Broussard, Julie Culpepper, Sydney Dailey, Terri Johnson, Patricia A. Lane, Dawn Lawler, Tina Thompson Occhipinti, Brenda Wyatt Patterson, Habiba N. Shaw, M.S., Ed.D., Chad Taylor, Judy House Thompson, Elton Thompson and Becky Williamson.

Advertising Sales Executive Rosa Reyes rosa@westgeorgiawoman.com

Angela Brooks Dailey, publisher of West Georgia Woman magazine, has lived in West Georgia most of her life and has a deep love and appreciation for the area. She received her B.B.A in management from The University of West Georgia in Carrollton, Ga. and is a Civil and Domestic Relations mediator and arbitrator registered with the Georgia Office of Dispute Resolution. She lives in Carrollton, Ga. and has two wonderful children, Zachary and Sydney Dailey. She is engaged to Dan Keeve. Angela enjoys reading, spending time with her children and extended family and loves to watch her daughter play soccer.

Triumph Over Tragedy

Photos by Keith May 10Location: Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church, Carrollton, Ga.

Mother Leans On Faith To Survive Childrensâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Deaths By Shala Hainer 11

t’s truly a parent’s worst nightmare: the loss of a child. Parents never want to outlive their children, and many parents can’t find their way to carry on with anything resembling a normal life after the death of a child. But Pat Dickson, now age 82, leaned on her faith not once, not twice, but multiple times, as four of her grown children died over the span of just a few years. Originally from Chattanooga, Tenn., Pat and her husband, Grady, decided to settle in Carrollton, Ga., to be closer to Pat’s mother, and Grady went to work for Southwire. They had a large family of seven children: Bobby, Brian, Beth, Billy, Beverly, Barry and Bernard. Billy, the middle son of the seven, tended to be a loner. Even at family gatherings, he might often wander off by himself. “He was not a socialite,” Pat remembers. “He was an individualist, and we accepted that. He stayed off to himself a lot, and we considered that just Billy.” Billy had glaucoma as an infant, but his life-long eye problems didn’t stop him from being productive and helpful. “We called him Mr. Fix It, because if

it broke, Billy fixed it. Sometimes we had parts left over, but he fixed it,” Pat says with a loving chuckle. He didn’t have a driver’s license, so he would walk wherever he needed to go. “If he wanted to go to Carrollton, he didn’t wait to get a ride, he just took off walking,” Pat says. He often picked up odd jobs, sometimes for the church the family attended – Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church in Carrollton. Pat recalls the last time she saw Billy in 1997, the day before he died, walking across her yard toward the church to pick up a check for some work he had finished. “I was standing on the deck, and I said, ‘Behave yourself, and don’t get into any trouble.’ I always tell the kids that,” she explains. “It’s just the mother in me.” Pat worked as the secretary at the church, which was only about a five-minute walk from her house. While she was at work the next day, Billy went into a small outbuilding behind the Monsignor’s house, and he shot himself. “We lived next door to the Monsignor, and were close friends. While I was at work, one of the boys at Monsignor’s house went into the outbuilding and found Billy.”

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When many people hear about a suicide, they often wonder what the family and friends could have done to stop it. They assume there are always warning signs, and cries for help. Sometimes, that’s true. For people like Billy, that isn’t the case. His parents, brothers and sisters were completely blindsided by Billy’s death. “I don’t know whether he had any thoughts of suicide,” says Pat. “The case is still open. But that

seems to be what happened. You don’t realize what’s in someone’s mind. Even if you did, what would you say? All I can say is ‘I love you,’ and I tell it to them all the time, to my children, my grandchildren. That’s all I can give them now is my love.” Billy never asked for help, never reached out to anyone about any internal struggles he might have been experiencing. The family was left with only unanswered questions, a gaping hole in their family, and memories of the son and brother they loved. Pat says after all these years, pieces of her world still remind her fondly of Billy, who was 37 when he died. “The other day, before the rain, I saw the path he used to take across my yard headed to the church. The path is still there.” Because she worked at the church, she often found herself in the cemetery for various reasons – sometimes for her personal reflection, but often to help grieving families. She would read the information about those who had passed away, and she finds comfort in the fact that other people understand what she went through. “You think you’re in this alone; oh, you’re not,” she says. “I walk the cemetery, and I have so many friends that have family members there – younger than Billy – and different things happened to them. I felt like at first I was alone, but I am not. Death comes.”

Enduring More Tragedy The death of one son is too much for many people to bear, but Pat has lived several lifetimes of grief. Two of her sons, Bernard and Barry, got into an altercation, and in an unintentional fit of rage, Bernard stabbed Barry and killed him. At that moment, Pat lost two sons – one to death, and one to prison, at least for a while. Pat’s husband, Grady, stood beside her and his family while

“You think you’re in this alone; oh, you’re not. I walk the cemetery, and I have so many friends that have family members there – younger than Billy – and different things happened to them. I felt like at first I was alone, but I am not. Death comes.”

they were preparing for Bernard’s trial. But fate dealt the family another bad hand. “My husband had a massive heart attack at the courthouse waiting to set Bernard’s trial, and he died that weekend.” Pat later lost two sons, Brian and Bobby, to medical causes – one had a staph infection that went to his heart, and the other went under anesthesia for a surgical procedure and never woke up. She then grieved over the loss of her best friend, Sarah. “I miss her as much as any of the family. If you’ve got a best friend, hang onto her,” Pat advises.

Dealing With Grief Although everyone deals with grief differently, support from friends and family is often key to moving forward. For Pat, her church gave her strength and comfort after every loss. “About the time Billy died, the church set up a bereavement committee,” she explains. “This group of ladies got together and were going to reach out to those who had lost a loved one. One of the ladies there got my name when Billy died. I know when she did that, she didn’t think she was going to have

a lifetime commitment, but she has, with each of the deaths in my family. She has brought food to my house, and she sends me cards with little gifts in them from time to time. This dear friend of mine from the church is still taking care of me. I just love her dearly.” Her children took the deaths very hard. “Some of them had anger,” she says. “They were so angry that this had happened. Especially the girls – it seemed to affect them more. The other boys followed along behind them, but each one was a little different.” Pat never waivered in her faith. “I went seeking more,” she says. “I didn’t say ‘why’ that much. Instead, I turned to my church. My church was my rock, and all of my friends there.” She also started reaching out to others, taking meals from the church to families who had lost loved ones. “I hope that my working with the funeral meals through the church for all these years will be something that has helped people who have lost someone, in whatever manner they passed away,” Pat explains. “I get to see the family, get acquainted with them, and chat a little. I don’t want to burden them with my grief, but my consoling them helps me.”

She also participates in a grieving committee the church recently started, where people who have lost loved ones get together to discuss their loss and share their experiences. “I’m always telling people,” says Pat. “If I didn’t talk about it, you would have already buried me. I must share this, and maybe I’m being selfish in my sharing, but it helps me to talk about it. "I’ll meet someone in a grocery store, and they’ve got a little baby, especially little boy babies, and I tell them to love them to the fullest. Sometimes I tell them I’ve lost four sons, so they need to just love those babies. I try to plant those seeds. “I also have two ‘yakky’ daughters, so I can talk to them, but first I have to listen, and then that’s bad,” she laughingly says. After Bobby passed away, Pat had a little money set aside, and she decided to do something to bring a little joy to her family: she took all the Dickson girls on a cruise. There were 13 ladies total, including daughters, daughters-in-law, and granddaughters. "We just needed to do something a little jovial,” she explains. She says her family enjoys getting together as often as they can, and every time, they pray for the

family members they lost. “We always remember them in prayer,” she says. “We talk about them, and ask, ‘What would they say about this situation?’ And all the girls lift up their glasses of wine to toast them.” Pat also finds comforts in her animals – three dogs, three cats, two rabbits and four chickens. “That’s what happens when you have to fill in the gaps with something,” she says.

Importance of Support Especially in a suicide situation, acquaintances and friends might not know what to say or do that might be helpful. Some people ask probing questions, or others avoid you altogether because they are uncomfortable with how to breach a sensitive topic. “The people I surround myself with are all church members, and they were very consoling,” she says. “I had very little questioning. Some people just don’t know what to say, and they avoid you. That’s hard. You see someone you know and know really well, and they don’t approach you. “But it’s not about what you say – it’s about how

you say it. You’re not questioning – you’re just supporting. Just say that if they ever need to talk, they can call you. We can talk about something else, or talk about whatever that person needs. Just tell them you are there for them.” She says that a few of her friends stood by her unwaveringly during all her losses, regardless of how

her children died. “I had a handful of friends that stood with me during the time of Bernard’s trial. There weren’t many, seven or eight, that were with me through everything. They are still there. They are still friends that I can call on and talk to. They stood by me through the whole thing. They knew the situation, and there was no real questioning. I knew they were there – I could look around and see them. That helps, to know that someone is there.” Curious people sometimes ask why Billy chose to die by suicide, and that’s an answer Pat might never know on this Earth. But she offers advice to others faced with the same question. “You have to be honest,” she says. “If you don’t know the answer, admit it and say, ‘I wish I did.’ We assumed that it was Billy’s nature – he was a loner.” Pat recommends that anyone suffering a loss, especially one as tragic as a suicide, join a support group to connect with other people who understand. She attends a support group through her church, but there are many available, often found through churches, hospitals and community outreach groups. She also suggests spending time with people you love. She has three more great-grandchildren on the way, so she knows she’ll have more people to love soon. “Love them to the fullest, because you never know,” Pat advises. “Life can be very short.” WGW

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying By Charles C. Finn Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear for I wear a mask, a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled. I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water's calm and I'm in command and that I need no one, but don't believe me. My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask, ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope, and I know it. That is, if it's followed by acceptance,

if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself, that I'm really worth something. But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing and that you will see this and reject me. So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying, what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say,

but what I can't say. I don't like hiding. I don't like playing superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings-very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings! With your power to touch me into feeling you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be a creator â&#x20AC;&#x201C; an honest-to-God creator â&#x20AC;&#x201C; of the person that is me if you choose to.

You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask, you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic, from my lonely prison, if you choose to. Please choose to. Do not pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls and in this lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive. Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet. WGW

THE FACES OF SUICIDE By Angela Brooks Dailey

Letters from survivors: Charlene Brooks, William Brooks, Austin Broussard, Carol Broussard, Terri Johnson, Dawn Lawler, Tina Thompson Occhipinti, Brenda Wyatt Patterson, Elton Thompson, Judy House Thompson and Becky Williamson. Additional contributors: Shala Hainer, Patricia A. Lane and Chad Taylor

osing my nephew Tristan to suicide was by far the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my life. There were, and still are, days when I thought I couldn't go on with every day life, and days when I didn't want to get out of bed every morning. Days full of sadness and tears and debilitating depression. Much like every other grieving person, I imagine. Our technical label is "Survivors of Suicide." That's the name given to those of us who have lost a loved one to suicide. I think a more appropriate name for us would be "Existers of Suicide," because we go about our daily Tristan with his sons Coen, (left) and Finnick, (right). lives eating and drinking and loved one through suicide, not to compare the pain breathing, just to stay alive, although on some days and grief to others, but it leaves the survivor with that's the last thing we want to do, really. a sense of incompleteness. After all, the death of a loved one by suicide goes against the natural order The Distinction of life and death. We are supposed to be born, grow up, have children, have grandchildren, watch our As survivors of suicide, there are distinct elders pass and then pass on ourselves, but suicide differences that separate us from others who have doesn't work that way. Often, it takes young and lost a loved one who died in a different manner. healthy people during the prime of their lives, way Probably the only experience that comes close to it before it is their time to leave this earth, leaving their would be to lose a loved one through some sort of elders and siblings, or their own children who love tragic death, perhaps a natural disaster or murder. them, with the indescribable pain and loss. Any unexpected death, I suppose. There will always be questions left forever There is a sense of unfairness to the loss of a unanswered, the most important question being "why?" "Why did Tristan do this?" "Why didn't he call me?" "What did I miss in his behavior that might have changed the outcome?" So many "why's, what if's and if only's." "If only I had called or seen the signs or reached out to him. What if I had called him right before he From left: Publisher Angela Dailey with Tristan, her son Zach and Tristan's brother Nathan celebrating after attempted to take Angela's graduation from the University of West Georgia.

his life? Would that have made a difference?" I often daydream and fantasize about calling Tristan moments before he made the decision to end his life. I know I made a real and positive difference in my nephew's life many times over. He listed me on Facebook as his mother. He was my flesh and blood. He was like my own son. I know it would have made a difference to him. Why didn't I have the forethought to call him? Why didn't I know he was dealing with so much pain, depression and sadness? If only I had been there for him. But I was. If only he had reached out to me. Zach and Tristan on our family vacation to Disney World. But he didn't. change that." That means absolutely nothing to a loved one who has lost someone to suicide. There The funny (not funny) thing is, it doesn't matter will always be that thought in the back of your mind when people try to comfort you by saying "There's that you could have done something if you had nothing you could have done to stop him," or been more aware. If you had just seen the signs. If "He made his choice to leave this world, you can't you had just done ... something.

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live â&#x20AC;&#x201C; but how can that be when we loved them so deeply? We are also so very sad for our loved ones because of the tremendous and overwhelming pain and darkness they must have been facing at the time of their death. The depression, sadness, anger or whatever else they were feeling that made them think life wasn't worth living anymore. I wish so very much that I could have taken Tristan's pain from him on that horrible day. So many mixed feelings and emotions come from suicide, far too many to recount here. I once read that suicide doesn't take your pain away, it just passes your pain on to someone else. That is such a true statement for those of us who have been left behind to deal with the overwhelming grief and sadness.

Shattered Lives

One of Tristan's senior photos with Angela's dog, Dixie.

The truth is, I will never have the answers to all of the questions I have regarding Tristan's tragic decision, and That. Really. Sucks. As human beings, we all want to know the reasons behind our behaviors, we want and need answers! As suicide survivors, we are cheated out of knowing why this tragic event has unfolded in our lives. We just have to attempt to pick up the pieces of our shattered hearts and lives and try to go on, in a world that feels so empty now that our loved one is gone, knowing that we will never be the same again. Knowing that nothing will ever be the same again. Many survivors struggle with their religious beliefs after losing someone to suicide, yet another huge loss during this time for those who were faithful and believed in a just and fair God. Many of us struggle with the meaning of life in general. We also have the very real struggle with our anger at our loved ones for leaving us behind, for not believing that life was worth living â&#x20AC;&#x201C; not even worth sticking around for those who loved them. We have been cheated out of saying goodbye properly, cheated out of watching our loved one grow into the even more wonderful human being we know they would have become. We are, in a sense, angry at our loved ones for choosing not to

There are days when I burst out crying for no reason at all, and days when I burst out crying for every reason that has to do with Tristan. Certain sights, smells, memories and songs can trigger the grief and sadness, and the pain is as raw and intense as when I first learned that he was no longer with us. My nephew was too young to die. My nephew deserved to have a long, full and happy life. But Tristan didn't get these things that he deserved, and we didn't get to see these things come to fruition in his life either. When I finally found out where Tristan was during his last moments, after calling every major trauma hospital in Georgia desperately for two hours, not knowing where the air ambulance had taken him, I should not have been told by a stranger that he was no longer with us. I should not have had to be the one to tell my parents their first grandchild was dead. And they should not have had to be the ones to tell my brother, Tristanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s father, this destructive and life-altering news about his son. During those two horrific hours, I was hoping beyond hope Tristan was still alive, and praying harder than I have ever prayed in my life, praying to God to spare his life. Sobbing uncontrollably, I bargained with God that I would take care of Tristan and Tristan with Angela at his high school help him recover, graduation. if only he would let Continued on page 32

WGW

Know The Warning Signs Of Suicide In Youth Up To The Age Of 24* Parents and Caregivers If you are concerned about your son or daughter, ask yourself the following questions. Has your son or daughter shown or shared any of the following: 1. Talk about wanting to die, be dead, or about suicide, or are they cutting or burning themselves? 2. Feeling like things may never get better, seeming like they are in terrible emotional pain (like something is wrong deep inside but they can't make it go away), or they are struggling to deal with a big loss in their life? 3. Or is your gut telling you to be worried because they have withdrawn from everyone and everything, have become more anxious or on edge, seem unusually angry, or just don't seem normal to you?

Gatekeepers Gatekeepers are anyone who has a meaningful and important role in the lives of a young person. They may include grandparents and other relatives, neighbors, teachers or other school personnel, youth pastors, coaches, mentors, etc. Gatekeepers generally have pretty good knowledge of and first-hand experience with the young people in their lives, either from regular in-person contact or other forms of interaction with them on a routine basis such that they would recognize if something might be wrong or have changed for that young person. Ask yourself the same questions under the parents and caregivers section on this page.

How to Respond If you notice any of these warning signs in anyone, you can help! 1. Ask if they are ok or if they are having thoughts of suicide 2. Express your concern about what you are observing in their behavior 3. Listen attentively and non-judgementally 4. Reflect on what they share and let them know they have been heard 5. Tell them they are not alone 6. Let them know there are treatments available that can help 7. Guide them to professional help

Remember, if anyone is harming themselves now or has just harmed themselves, call 911 or take them to an emergency room immediately. *Warning signs for youth provided by youthsuicidewarningsigns.org. These warning signs apply to youth up to age 24. Please see page 31 for suicide warning signs in adults.

The following signs may mean that a youth is at risk for suicide, particularly in youth who have attempted suicide in the past: Risk is greater if the warning sign is: New or has increased and is possibly related to an anticipated or actual painful event, loss, or change.

The presence of more than one of the following warning signs may increase a youth's risk for engaging in suicidal behaviors in the near future. • • • • • • • •

Talking about or making plans for suicide Expressing hopelessness about the future Displaying severe/overwhelming emotional pain or distress Showing worrisome behavioral cues or marked changes in behavior, particularly in the presence of the warning signs above. Specifically, this includes significant: Withdrawal from or changing in social connections/situations Changes in sleep (increased or decreased) Anger or hostility that seems out of character or out of context Recent increased agitation or irritability

Are you still concerned? Here is how you can get more help:

If you think that your child or another youth may need help right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Your call is free and confidential. Trained crisis workers in your area can assist you and the youth in deciding what they need right now.

Know the warning signs of suicide in adults age 25 and older* How do you remember the Warning Signs of Suicide? Here's an easy-to-remember mnemonic: IS PATH WARM? I S

Ideation Substance Abuse

P A T H

Purposelessness Anxiety Trapped Hopelessness

W A R M

Withdrawal Anger Recklessness Mood Changes

Warning Signs of Acute Risk: • Threatening to hurt or kill him or herself, or talking of wanting to hurt or kill him/herself • Looking for ways to kill him/herself by seeking access to firearms, available pills, or other means • Talking or writing about death, dying or suicide, when these actions are out of the ordinary

These might be remembered as expressed or communicated ideation. If observed, seek help as soon as possible by contacting a mental health professional or calling 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for a referral. Expanded Warning Signs: • • • • • • • • •

Increased substance (alcohol or drug) use No reason for living; no sense of purpose in life Anxiety, agitation, unable to sleep or sleeping all of the time Feeling trapped - like there's no way out Hopelessness Withdrawal from friends, family and society Rage, uncontrolled anger, seeking revenge Acting reckless or engaging in risky activities, seemingly without thinking Dramatic mood changes

If observed, seek help as soon as possible by contacting a mental health professional or calling 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for a referral. *Warning signs in adults provided by The American Association of Suicidology

Continued from page 26

him live. We couldn't lose our sweet Tristan. Please God, I pleaded with him, just let him live. My fiancé, Dan, a police officer who has seen the aftermath of suicide several times during his career, tried to tell me the prognosis for Tristan was most likely not good, but I refused to believe him. I just knew that if I prayed hard enough, if I bargained enough, if I begged enough, Tristan would be spared. I am so overwhelmed by sadness at his death, angry and disappointed, but that doesn't change the fact that Tristan is gone Tristan, Zach, Angela's daughter Sydney and Angela on our family vacation to and we'll never see him again, at Universal Studios. least not here on Earth. He chose endure on a daily basis. to take his own life, and I know I need to accept that decision, but it is so very hard to accept. I don't know that I ever can or will. No Family Is Immune I know the world expects me to act normally, to The problem is, most people never think this go on with everyday life, and, of course, I will go on for those who love me, but I don't know that I'll ever could happen to them. Suicide only happens in other families. No one ever wants to believe this be OK again. I don't even know what that means could happen to them. Never in a million years anymore, to be "OK." would I have thought that Tristan, or anyone in my When Tristan passed away, a part of me died, family would do this. too. I feel as if I will never escape this hole that is left inside of me, this horrible, awful void that never But it does happen. And it happens more often goes away no matter how hard I try to make it leave, than you would think. because when Tristan chose to take his own life, he also took part of mine with him. If you read West Georgia Woman regularly, you I've come to the realization that I will never know that in every issue Tristan's picture is in front “overcome” the painful and devastating reality of of the magazine. As I go about the daily business Tristan’s death. I can only get through it, never over of the magazine, inevitably someone will ask me it, one day at a time, knowing that I will experience the daily hell of being a suicide "exister" for the rest what happened to the handsome young man who passed away at such a young age. I would estimate, of my life. The word "why?" is forever my mantra, just based on my conversations with hundreds of tied to me like a cord around my neck, sometimes becoming so tight I can barely breathe from the hurt people, that 1 in 3 have been intimately affected by suicide. 1 out of every 3 people I talk to has had a and devastating sadness. close friend or relative die by suicide. Tristan passed away one year ago this month, on Sept. 17. I wish, at this point, I could say it gets Let that sink in a moment. better, but I can't. In some ways, and on some days, the pain eases Why aren't we, as a nation, talking about this? slightly, which Why are we not bringing more awareness to suicide helps make it at in our country? More people in this country die by least bearable. But suicide than by war, murder and natural disasters most of the time, combined, according to the American Foundation it's not pretty. It's horrible and terrible for Suicide. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and awful, and the worst thing I have to says suicide is the third-leading cause of death

among persons age 10 to 14, second among persons age 15 to 34 years, fourth among persons age 35 to 44 years, fifth among persons age 45 to 54 years, eighth among persons age 55 to 64 years, and 17th among persons 65 years and older. Suicide is the 10th leading cause of all deaths combined in the United States, and every 12.3 minutes, one person dies by suicide, which results in 117 Americans taking their own lives every day, according to the American Association of Suicidology. The U.S. Census Bureau says the national average daily commute to work is 25.5 minutes. Think about that for a moment. Within the time it takes for the average worker to drive to and from work every day, four people have died from suicide. And in those 51 minutes – in less than an hour – four families, numerous friends, acquaintances and co-workers will be forever changed by suicide. Recent research-based statistics from the AAS also show that the effects of suicide are more far-reaching than previously reported. A total of 147 people are exposed and 18 people are intimately affected and "experience a major life disruption" for each death by suicide. I am hyper vigilant now with my family, especially my children. I'm always more watchful, more aware, always looking for signs that they may be struggling with depression or sadness. I tell them how important they are, there will always be bad days, but they can overcome those days. They try to reassure me, because they are survivors, too, and they know what it's like, but I still worry and wonder if they are OK. Our family has lost the ignorant innocence that most families have before facing a tragedy like this.

Tristan and Sydney 2009. They share the same birthday - May 15.

Warning Signs of Suicide • Talking about wanting to die • Looking for a way to kill oneself • Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose • Talking about feeling trapped or in unbearable pain • Talking about being a burden to others • Increasing the use of alcohol or drugs • Acting anxious, agitated or recklessly • Sleeping too little or too much • Withdrawing or feeling isolated • Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge • Displaying extreme mood swings The more of these signs a person shows, the greater the risk. Warning signs are associated with suicide but may not be what causes a suicide.

What To Do If someone you know exhibits warning signs of suicide: • Do not leave the person alone • Remove any firearms, alcohol, drugs or sharp objects that could be used in a suicide attempt • Call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) • Take the person to an emergency room or seek help from a medical or mental health professional *Warning signs provided by ReportingOnSuicide.org For a more comprehensive list of warnings for youth and adults, see pages 28-31.

No longer are we protected from tragic events. We know the horrible truth. No one is safe from tragedy. No one. Suicide affects all races, all cultures, all ages, all religions and all socioeconomic statuses. And no family is safe from the horrible reality of suicide.

A Guessing Game What causes suicide is still a mystery to many, although it has been the subject of numerous studies for years. Suicide is often the end result of multiple factors composed of often complex situations leading up to the personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s decision to end their life, which may include psychiatric illnesses or mental disorders that may not have been recognized or treated, such as depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, schizophrenia or bipolar disorder, or substance abuse. Studies have shown that 90% of all people who die by suicide experience some type of mental illness, according to the National

Alliance on Mental Illness. However, there is hope for those suffering because these illnesses are most often treatable with medication and therapy. Having suicidal thoughts does not mean a person is flawed or weak. They may be sick and they need help. Although Tristan did have a major disruptive event happen in his life at the time of his death, he was also a victim of multiple traumatic life experiences between the ages of 8 and 15 years old that I personally believe were the largest contributing factors in his decision to take his life at the age of 22. I am not a doctor, but I believe as a result of these traumatic events in his life, he was most likely suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and severe depression.

Hiding Behind The Mask

The "three musketeers," Nathan, Tristan and Zach.

Most suicide survivors I have met have told me their loved ones were often outwardly very charismatic, charming, happy and loving people. Tristan was no different. He was such a joy to be around and he made you feel so alive in his presence. He was always making jokes, always wanted

to be the center of attention and he was so very charming, thoughtful, extremely sensitive and loving. Tristan loved others with his whole being, and showed them often how deeply he loved them through his actions and his words. Tristan was the last person in my family that I would have thought would do this. He always seemed so strong and capable, as if nothing were insurmountable for him. He hid his pain well, from our side of the family, at least, and it seems most suicide victims are very adept at hiding their troubled souls, according to other survivors I've spoken with.

Get Real About Suicide If you are a parent, grandparent, teacher or friend, please talk about suicide with your loved ones, students and friends. Let them know they are not burdening you with their problems and that it's OK for them to talk with you. Let them know it is OK to ask for help if they feel they can't go on or if they feel they are overwhelmed with life. Please just talk with them and be open and real with the ones you love. Their lives depend on you being honest and having real conversations about suicide with them. I wish I had talked with Tristan about suicide when he was still with us. Please look at the sidebar on page 33, and read pages 28 to 31, and familiarize yourself with the warning signs of suicide in youth and adults, and how to support your loved one or friend in a potential suicidal situation. Take off your blinders and really be aware of what is going on in the lives of your loved ones and friends. If you believe suicide can't happen to your friends or in your family, you are wrong. I cannot stress enough how important it is to have conversations with the ones you love about suicide. Don't allow them, or yourselves, to become a part of this nation's suicide statistics. Take action and talk about suicide with those you love â&#x20AC;&#x201C; even if they seem fine and do not exhibit any of the warning signs, and continue to One of the last photos we have of check in on them on a Tristan. This was taken last summer regular basis. at his son Finnick's baby shower.

Everyone dies, but only few truly live.

My name is Tristan Alexander Brooks. I was born May 15, 1993. I am really random and spontaneous. I love life and my family is very important to me, and I thank God for every single one of them, even the worst of them. I live with my mom, stepdad and baby brother. My best friends who got me through the worst part of my life are Chino Park, Patrick Devlin, Ian Vaz, Hillary Ross, Shanifer Egan, and Tom Long. My little brother is one of the most important people in my life, Nathan just doesn't realize it because I've been so tough on him all of his life, but I just wanted to make him a strong person like his older brother. Since I've been going to church, my relationship with my parents and stepparents has improved tremendously. My parents and I have always gotten along OK, but now that I've grown, I have never been closer and I love them so much. I am Catholic and attend OLPH in Carrollton, Ga. Most of all though, I owe my life to Angela Dailey who took me in when she didn't have to and treats me as though I am her own son, and for that I am beyond grateful. An excerpt from Tristan's description of himself on his "About Me" page on Facebook. His love for all of his friends and family was often very evident in his actions and his words. I don't know when he added this to his page. I never knew that he wrote the excerpt at the end about me until after he passed away. I wish I had seen this before he died. I would have told him "thank you" for loving me, for adding so much joy and love to my life for 22 years and for opening his heart and allowing me to be another mother to him. I, too, am beyond grateful to have been given the opportunity to love, and, for a short while, care for my precious Tristan. Neither of us were perfect, and I made my share of mistakes while he lived with me, but we never doubted the love we had for each other.

You Are Not Alone If you have personally had thoughts of suicide or believe you can't continue with your life, please get help. Suicide is preventable. You don't have to face depression alone. There are so many people who want to help you through your pain and sadness. You are not a burden to others if you reach out for help. Your friends and loved ones want to be there for you. Please. Just reach out to someone. If you

feel you have no one close to you to reach out to for help, please call this 24-hour suicide prevention lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Here, you will find nonjudgmental, caring and compassionate people to help you through whatever situation you may find yourself dealing with. I don't want what happened to Tristan to happen to you. Tristan had so many people who would have helped him through this if only he had reached out to them. You matter. Your life is worth living. You can overcome the challenges in your life. There is no problem big enough in this world that is worth losing your life over. Please seek help.

Our Stories The following pages include the many faces of suicide, stories from survivors in West Georgia and some photos of our loved ones who lost their lives to suicide. We also have a story from a courageous man who found himself at the brink of suicide and found

Carrollton

his way back with the help of friends and family, a story written by Shala Hainer, West Georgia Woman magazine's copy editor and contributing writer, whose mother attempted suicide and was finally able to seek the right kind of help, and another story of a young woman who survived her own suicide attempt. These stories of our loved ones were not easy to share with you, because the grief is indescribable. For some of us, it took several months of trying to write, stopping, then trying again. But we all shared these stories with you for two reasons: To help others who may be dealing with the loss of a loved one by suicide, and to hopefully help prevent more suicides from happening. If you understand what it is like to be a suicide survivor, I am deeply sorry. The price you have paid to become a member of this club is far too much. If you do not understand, I am sincerely thankful for that. I think Terri Johnson, one of our contributing survivors, said it best when describing those closest to her after losing her fiancĂŠ, Jack: "They didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t understand. For that I am grateful, for to fully understand would break them, too."

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I wish Tristan could have been saved. I would give anything to change the events that occurred on Sept. 17, 2015. I wish I could just talk to him, hug him and kiss him again and tell him how much I love him. If you had known Tristan, I think you would have loved him too. He was such a good kid. He endured many challenges in his life, beginning at a young age, yet he still wasn't afraid to love deeply. In many ways, through his zest for life and his remarkable ability to love in spite of the challenges in his life, Tristan lived more in his 22 years than many people have lived in an entire lifetime. Tristan was a bright and shining light to many, and he left this world far too early. I miss him so much that at times I can barely breathe from the hurt.

Tristan's Legacy When I place Tristan's picture in the magazine every month, I am honoring the wonderful and special young man he was, and, in some ways, it has helped me deal with the pain of losing him as well.

After Tristan passed, I had this intense desire to share who Tristan was with others; they had to know him. I would never let anyone forget he was here with us. Knowing I would be reminding thousands of people of who that beautiful, sweet, charming and precious boy was every month was the only thing that kept me going this past year through some of the darkest days I have ever had. This magazine is, in a way, his beautiful legacy. Proof that he was amongst us and proof he was such an important part of the lives of those of us who love him and miss him so deeply. As long as I am alive, and the many others who love him, his legacy will continue. I will never stop reminding others that Tristan was here with us. He was not here long enough, only 22 years, but he was here, he was loved and he was so very important to all of us. I wish he had thought of that before he made his tragic decision. Tristan will always be loved and missed so very much. He will never be forgotten, his memory will live forever in our hearts, and his photos will remain in the pages of this magazine. We will never forget. WGW

Tristan Alexander Brooks

May 15, 1993 - September 1 7 , 2015

Written by Charlene Brooks, Tristan's grandmother

randkids give you love, joy, happiness, hugs, kisses and a new name. Tristan Alexander Brooks is our first grandchild, and he is the one who gave me my new name – Nana. The next grandchild is Zachary, then Nathan, and then our young lady Sydney. Our precious sweet grandchildren took over our hearts. The three boys are a few years older than Sydney and became the three musketeers. We had cardboard box trains and sheet forts in the living room, and picnics indoors with smiley-face soft Cheetos. The “Mary Poppins” movie scene with

38 From left: Zachary, Tristan and Nathan

the chimney sweeps dancing to the song “Step In Time” was a favorite of the boys. They really got into it, dancing all up and down on the couch and were a joy to From left: Zach, Tristan and Nathan watch. We had treasure hunts with clues drawn by me, and I always had a prize for each one of them. The boys would help their PawPaw, his new name, outside with little things that they could do. We had a fencedin yard where they could play ball and have fun together. Our daughter put a swimming pool in the yard, and they loved it. Then, Sydney arrived, and all three boys instantly became her protectors and, of course, had to pick on her a little bit From left: Tristan, Zach sometimes, but no one else and Nathan could. As Tristan grew, because he was the oldest, he wanted to be the protector of all the younger ones out of love for them. The grandkids grew up close and loving

PawPaw taking a nap with Tristan.

each other, and we as a family have always been a close and loving family. Time went by, and they grew up and had their own lives, but they remained close to us. We had family gatherings all the time. On Sept. 17, 2015, our world shattered. Our grandson Tristan Alexander Brooks, only 22 years old, left us by his own hands. We were, and still are, Nana and Tristan at his high school devastated. We graduation. couldn’t believe he could do this to himself. He was always upbeat and joking and bringing joy to those in our family. We have been told by grief counselors that they hide their pain from loved ones, and Tristan never showed us signs of depression New Orleans, July 2005. From left: Zachary, Nana, or even Nathan, Tristan, Sydney and Angela.

hinted that he would do this to himself, or we would have turned the world upside down to help him. Our sweet, precious Tristan is always in our hearts, and the wonderful memories we have of him will remain in our thoughts forever. Tristan has two sweet boys of his own, our great-grandchildren Coen, 4, and Finnick, 1, whom we love with all our hearts. Tristan, Nana loves and misses you so very much, but I know I will see you again in Heaven, and you will be there to greet me with your sweet smile and a Tristan hug. Until we meet again sweet baby, Love, Nana.

Nana holding Tristan at his kindergarten graduation.

Written by William Brooks, Tristan's father

y name is William Brooks. I am the father of Tristan Alexander Brooks. My sister, Angela Dailey, is the publisher of West Georgia Woman Magazine. By the time you read this article, my son will have been departed one year. When Angie asked me to write this tribute to my fallen son – her nephew – it was both an honor and a heavy burden. I knew it would be difficult. Not only would I have the task of honoring, putting into failing, inadequate words the 22-year life that was Tristan, but also of descending into the dark abyss of emotional hell that took me so long and much effort to escape from since his passing. I also struggled with whether the article should focus more on his life or his death, or both. I have as of late become painfully aware that death, too, is a part of life. This is a father’s celebration of the life of his son, and a requiem for his departure. My first memory of Tristan is when he came into this realm of existence on May 15, 1993, at Tanner Hospital in Carrollton, Ga. The doctor offered to let me cut Tristan’s umbilical cord, and I was so excited and nervous, my hands shook uncontrollably and I dropped the scissors. Serendipitously, the very exact thing would happen 22 years later, as Tristan, in a state of nervous excitement, dropped the scissors when attempting to cut the cord of his second son, Finnick. Since his passing, I often look at old photographs, and linger in the happier times and places of memories, when Tristan was just a young boy. I remember when Tristan was learning to walk, no matter how hard a day I had at work, when I came through the front door, Tristan’s big blue eyes would light up and a smile would break out from ear to ear. I would take him out of his play pen and he would crawl all over me. I would toss him up into the air and play for hours at a time … and nothing else in the world

William holding Tristan during his 1st haircut.

seemed to matter or exist. The life that filled Tristan burst forth from him from the earliest age. He had a way of letting you know he was here and demanded your attention. I remember waking many a morning to the sound of his crib banging against the wall. I would go to his room and he would be rocking back and forth as if to say, “Daddy, I’m awake and so must you be.” But I didn’t mind. At the time, my marriage to his mother was not very healthy, and it did not take long before Tristan and I became more like buddies, and he, and later his brother Nathan, became my life. Tristan loved to play outside, and often I would take him to a local playground so he could play in the sandbox. A train occasionally would pass by, he would look up at me in excitement and say, “choo choo train!” We would walk over to the fence, he would hold my hand, trembling, but then look up at me with trusting eyes, knowing that he could enjoy the experience of this massive iron beast rushing by, because Daddy would protect him from harm. From left: Nathan, William and Tristan. Not long after came his brother Nathan, and cousin Zach, the “three musketeers.” Being the oldest, Tristan had the right to name everyone. My dad became “PawPaw,” my mother “Nana,” Angie “Gigi,” her husband Robby “Robber,” Nathan ‘”Shnay-nay.” These names stuck, and even today, Tristan’s own sons, Coen and Finnick still call my mother and

father “Nana” and “PawPaw.” The fullness of life that filled Tristan could at times translate into very boisterous expressions toward his younger brother and cousin, but God forbid anyone else try to harm Nathan or Zach. Tristan was From left: Tristan, William and Nathan. very protective of them to the last. Tristan was all about fun. Jokes poured forth from his mouth, light shone from his eyes and he loved to play, as does his oldest son Coen today, although I seem to have had more energy years ago playing with Tristan than I do now with Coen. Tristan demanded my attention the second I got home, and I gladly gave it to him … riding bikes, rough-housing, throwing pillows, wrestling on the floor. It is fair to say that Tristan and I were inseparable, and he was my life. Then, it all abruptly ended. Tristan’s mother and I divorced when he was 8, and little by little, I noticed the light going out of his eyes, the smile fading from From left: Nathan, William and his face. Tristan. After the divorce, Tristan and Nathan moved to New York, and it was during this time that Tristan endured some detrimental, traumatic experiences, which I believe contributed to his fateful decision years later that would culminate in the end of his life, and to a large measure, mine as well. During the first two years in New York, Tristan and I had very limited contact. No visits, no letters, no phone calls. We went from being best buddies to incommunicado. Tristan shared with me that during this time in New York, he was told repeatedly that I was dead, didn’t care about him, that he should

forget me as I had forgotten him. He once even called 911 in a desperate attempt to reach me. Due to his angst, frustration and despair from losing contact with me and my family, he started acting out, and in return he was institutionalized and medicated. His problems were not of the mind, but of the heart; the antidote not a drug, but time, and a loving, close relationship with his father and family. As Tristan got older, he turned often to other outlets and means in an attempt to find the peace, love and happiness, to fill the void and emptiness where once my family and I were. I eventually made the decision to move north to be closer to Tristan and Nathan. The almost two years apart from them took a terrible toll on me as well. We had a very close bond and relationship, From left: Tristan, William and Nathan and when they were gone, it was a living hell. Not knowing where they were, if they were OK, it plunged me into a dark abyss that took awhile to climb out of. When I first saw Tristan again, it was different, awkward. The old camaraderie was gone. We tried to rekindle our relationship, but by now, Tristan was entering the teen years of, well, all parents know what that entails. Tristan never really got along too well with his stepfather during the years they lived in New York. At some point, when Tristan was 15, he got into

From left: Tristan, William and Nathan.

an altercation with him. I got custody of Tristan as a result. For the first time in years, my son came home to me. I had hoped I could yet again save Tristan, to get him back on track to a good life and future ahead of him, but looking back, I believe in some way, by that point, he was already lost. I learned the hard way that sometimes, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t save your child. When Tristan graduated from high school, the whole world seemed to lie ahead of him. He fell in love with a girl. He got a job making his own money, decent money at that. He was expecting his first son, Coen, when he started having problems in his relationship. To try to take his mind off of things, I took Tristan and Nathan camping in the north Georgia mountains at Black Rock Mountain State Park. We had a blast, drinking, singing and dancing around the campfire. Tristan forgot all about his worries and cares, and in those moments, it was like old times. Tristan and his girlfriend eventually worked things out, moved in together and had a second son, Finnick. But it was never the traditional 1950s archetype family he had always wanted so badly. Tristan always worked hard to provide for his family. He worked long hours, overtime, weekends. But he always found time to play with his son Coen, and to build their father-son bond. Tristan loved

William and Tristan at Black Rock Mountain State Park.

family get-togethers, especially “Ma,” (what I call my mother), Nana’s home cooking and sweet tea. The light seemed to return to his eyes, and his ubiquitous smile and sense of humor, now grown-up as well, touched us all. His presence filled the room, and when Tristan was around, everyone knew it. His sweet, loving heart returned from its dormancy. Tristan would visit my mother and father without being asked to. He would call them and Angie just because. He helped others without hesitation or being asked, and he never expected anything in return. Tristan had a good heart, a good soul, but he suffered so much heartache, disappointment and sadness at such a young, tender age. Sometimes, the darkness of this world is too much for the bright

William's wife Emma, William and Tristan.

light of souls like Tristan. He was not perfect. And I made more than my fair share of mistakes as a father to him over the years. That is part of the human experience. But Tristan was definitely a very special person. This Earth will never be the same without him in it. And neither will we, or I. A father always hopes his sons will learn from and avoid the same mistakes, not walk down the same road. I never thought Tristan would follow so closely the tracks of my footsteps. I always wanted more, better for Tristan. For him to go to college, meet a nice, loving woman, fall in love, get married, have kids, enjoy a successful career, and live a long, happy life filled with love. Tristan had kids and got into a relationship way too young. He tried to make it all work. Looking back, I believe he longed for the old-fashioned family where the man works hard and comes home to his family at the end of the day, realizing what it is all for, like the life he had before my divorce. And right before the end of his short life, he had it all

Tristan, our little lost boy, who could not find his way home, who could not find that happy place he knew earlier in his life when he was still an innocent sweet boy. If only he had thought about how much I and the rest of his family, Nathan, Nana and PawPaw, Angie, Zach and Sydney, loved him when he was still with us. We shall love him still, until we draw our last breath. We love you Tristan, Dad.

crumbling down around him, just like before, when he was young. I truly believe he did not want to be apart from his children, could not stand to live without them. And he did not want his children to have to endure what he and Nathan did. He thought he knew what lied ahead down that road. And instead of having to walk down that road, he made the choice to just stop walking. When I first learned that Tristan had died, the horror was indescribable. My heart hurt so badly I thought I would die and wished it were so. Seeing my son lying lifeless in the coffin, watching him being lowered into the ground â&#x20AC;Ś these are sights no parent should ever have to behold. I have realized since his passing that I have a sacred duty. I have to teach his sons, Coen and Finnick, Tristanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s legacy. To tell them through pictures, mementos and stories, the wonderful man their father, my boy, was. This cycle of sadness, suffering, separation and suicide ends. In so doing, I know there is hope for the future, for my son Nathan, and my grandsons Coen and Finnick. In this, I honor my son, carry on his legacy, and preserve the memory of Tristan Alexander Brooks.

From left: Tristan, William and Nathan on a family vacation in New Orleans.

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From Left: Tristan, William, Nathan and Zach.

"A Gift to Family, Friends and the World"

Amanda Nicole Broussard September 30, 1987– March 12, 2015

Written by Carol Broussard, Amanda's mother, with an excerpt from Austin Broussard, Amanda's brother

here is a name written in the Lamb’s Book of life. It is Amanda Nicole Broussard. We became survivors of suicide after losing our daughter, Amanda Nicole Broussard, by suicide at the age of 27 on March 12, 2015. After being married five years, we prayed for the birth our first born, and God blessed us with a healthy bouncy baby girl, Amanda, which means “worthy of love.” Amanda had a disarming presence that would draw you toward her. She made you laugh, perhaps at yourself. She laughed at herself all the time. She was a Daddy’s girl, and often teased that her name should be changed to Byronetta, after her dad. She had beautiful hazel eyes, golden brown hair, a heart of gold, and a warm smile

that would light up a room when she walked in. She was extremely sensitive, caring, compassionate, considerate, and always willing to listen and help others with their problems. We were looking forward to seeing how God was going to combine her love and compassion for people with her gift of singing and practicing law together. In our family, she helped the flow of joy be “sharable.” She loved her family and friends, especially her little brother, Austin. She loved music! She often walked into the house singing or had the music blasting in her room. She enjoyed cooking and making people happy. She had a strong faith and wholeheartedly loved Jesus. She expressed her faith in God and gave her heart to Christ at the age of 5, under the pastorate of her father, Byron L. Broussard. Amanda attended Rainbow Preschool, Mount Zion Christian School, and graduated from Landmark Christian School in 2005. She graduated from Hampton University with honors in May 2009, with a bachelor’s in public relations, where she was

selected to carry the department’s banner and to sing the classical and gospel versions of “Precious Lord at her graduation. In May 2014, Amanda graduated from Drake Law School with a juris doctor. While in school, Amanda served as summer camp counselor, special events youth choir director, public relations consultant and personal assistant to her father. In the summer of 2013, Amanda and her mother took an E F Mediterranean Coast Tour to Italy, Spain and France. Amanda performed in the Landmark Christian School Music and Arts Department and was a member of the girls’ basketball team. Amanda sang in the Hampton University concert, gospel and

university choirs. She was a licensed mediator for the Justice Center of Atlanta and most recently held a position at a law firm in Atlanta. Amanda died by suicide 15 days after taking the bar exam the second time. Amanda received notification in May 2015 that she passed the State of Georgia bar exam. Amanda’s brother, Austin, knows his life was changed forever when Amanda took her life. “Everything reminds me of you,” he says to her. “The whole world has your name on it. I’m going to miss you always, baby girl…Always. I don’t understand death. This pain didn’t come with instructions. I’d do anything … anything ...”

A Second Chance Written by Shala Hainer

he was the fun mom. All our friends liked to hang out at our house, and she loved spending time with her kids and their friends. My mother, Victoria, was smart as a whip, full of love for her family, fiercely loyal and generous almost to a fault. My mom tried to put on a happy face, but there was more going on underneath than we ever knew. After I was grown, my mother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder – she had Victoria at a dog show. She raised and showed lived with Central Asian Ovcharkas, a Russian rare breed. it for a very Photo in header: Victoria in the hospital holding her firstgrandchild, Jackson, the day he was born in long time,

May 2007.

but her sometimes inexplicable behavior didn’t have a name until then. Bipolar disorder brought many challenges to my mother’s life, including rough bouts with depression. It’s a difficult disorder to treat, and her psychiatrist tried multiple medications, trying to find just the right one to help her feel normal again. He tried for years – with only the trial-and-error method at his disposal, the “error” seemed to be winning. In 2009, my mom was starting another vicious cycle of manic behavior and severe depression. The doctor added a new pill to her medication regimen in an attempt to boost her current medication’s effectiveness. But it went horribly wrong. I had just dropped my 2-year-old son off at his babysitter’s house and was heading into work when I got the call. My mom had shot herself. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I was told she had laid some garbage bags (always considerate!) on her bed and shot herself in the stomach sometime during the night. She was still alive, but just barely. She had fallen on the floor at some point, and lay there, hurting and bleeding, for hours. Yet she begged the EMTs to leave her there and not take her to the hospital. I was heartbroken and terrified. So many

Victoria smiling at Shala's baby shower for Jackson in 2007.

questions flew through my mind that day. Why would she do this to us? What was so wrong in her life that ending it seemed like a better option? Why wouldn’t she have called me first? Unlike many people who lose a loved one to suicide, I had the chance to talk to my mom and ask her those questions. The doctors operated on her, and she lived. She lived, and she was able to finally receive more intense therapy and the help she needed. She lived to spend more time with her grandson and create memories that will live with him forever. She lived to reach out to more people in the community with words of encouragement and with generosity. She lived to hear me tell her I loved her and that I was there for her. She lived, and finally found a medication that brought her closer to the person I remember, the mom I remember. She died two years later of natural causes, not related to her brush with suicide. Even though I lost her too soon, I am thankful for the chance we were given to reach a more comfortable place in our relationship, and to spend more time together. I am grateful we were able to talk through some of her issues, and she could give me some answers.

Shala and Victoria together when Victoria was officially named Postmaster in Esom Hill, Ga.

Why would she do this to us? She didn’t do this to us. She wasn’t thinking of us at all. She was inside her own mind, and couldn’t get out to a place that made sense to her. What was so wrong in her life that ending it seemed like a better option? Being depressed isn’t about what is wrong in life. It’s about an often irrational thought and emotional pattern. That’s why it’s so dangerous. Why wouldn’t she have called me first? Because it wasn’t about me. Depression isn’t just normal sadness; it’s an illness that changes your behavior. I had seen warning signs for years, and I had tried to help her for years. I had talked to her the day before she shot herself, and I knew she was depressed. I knew something didn’t sound right in her voice. I asked her questions about how she was doing. I told her funny stories about her grandson to make her laugh. I asked if she wanted to come over for dinner. I asked if I could bring her dinner and just talk a while. She was already in counseling, and I asked if it was possible for her to see her therapist the next day. She said she just wanted to go to Victoria holding Jackson when he was one bed and we could week old. talk later. I tried. I reached out. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t about me. My mother’s mental illness made her life, and often ours, difficult at times. But as a country, we need to stop stigmatizing mental illness and understand there is a real need for patience, understanding and access to proper treatment. When people aren’t afraid, or embarrassed, to talk about feelings they know don’t make sense, they can start receiving treatment sooner and without humiliation. As a community, we need to recognize the signs of mental illness as best we can and try to steer those people toward the healing they need without blame and judgment. We don’t blame people who need treatment for cancer, for example; true mental illness shouldn’t be any different.

Surviving? No, Thriving!

Written by Terri Johnson

f someone had asked me 20-plus years ago if I was going to survive the loss of my fiancé to suicide, I would have answered, “No … no way!” I didn’t want to survive. I was disappointed when I awoke each morning to face another day without him, and yet the routines of the day awaited me. I was still a mother to a child who needed me. I still had a job that required my presence. I still had family who loved me. Even in my brokenness, the world needed me to be whole again. They didn’t understand. For that I am grateful, for to fully understand would break them, too. My circle of friends – or were they just acquaintances? – shrunk considerably. Many could not deal with the grief journey I was traveling. They had no idea what to say, so they said nothing and fell away. A few friends listened and listened, probably more than their ears wanted to hear, while I told the story of loss, but they also did not understand. My church family was gracious with cards and food, but I felt somewhat out of place as I questioned my faith through this event. About four months after Jack’s death, a counselor friend directed me to a support group for people who had lost loved ones to suicide. Finally, I found people who not only understood the range of emotions I was experiencing on my journey, but had similar stories to share. I was not alone in my grief and frustration. Others expressed how they had felt the same way or dealt with similar issues. When I told them I drove two exits past home on the interstate, they understood. When I told them how tired I was when I fell into bed each night and how tired I still was the next morning, they were all nodding their heads. When I mentioned I couldn’t remember things for more than 30 seconds, they told me it was normal. I thought I was losing my mind, but they told me these were manifestations of grief. Survivors of Suicide (Loss), or SOS groups, were a saving grace for me. I had so many questions, but if I listened, someone would ask what I wanted to know. How long will this grief last? As long as it takes. When will things become normal again? You will find a new normal for your life as things will never be the same. How did you lose your loved one? The stories are both different and the same. My story is somewhat unique because I was present when Jack ended his life. While I’ll never

fully know why he chose suicide, I know it was not about me, although it felt very personal at the time. He had other demons from things like having served in Vietnam, from family issues and from work pressures, and these were separate from our relationship. I had only a few minutes to try to influence his decision, but was unsuccessful. In telling my story, I have hopefully given some peace to other survivors who thought, “If I’d only been there, I could have….” I WAS there, and the outcome did not change. Some years later, I began to pay it forward with what the groups had given me. I found that although my faith had been tested, it was the one thing that upheld me through the toughest times. Facilitating an SOS group is a way to help others on their grief journey. It’s a safe, confidential place where we can bond through our losses, share our stories, and support and encourage each other. It’s a place of hope and healing that we will survive the traumatic loss, find a new normal for our lives, and honor the times we shared with our loved ones. We can move beyond surviving to thriving.

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To Die For A Little While A Survivor's Story Written by Patricia A. Lane

uicide. A wish to die, a cry for help that too often remains unanswered, an ending that is not glamorous â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a sickening and fatal reality. Some people think suicide does not happen in "good" families. That is what my father thought. I am now 24 years old. When I was 20, I attempted suicide. I lived to tell my story; many are not so lucky. I choose to share my story with you so you will know that suicide is real and preventable. It can and has happened many times to people just like you and me. I grew up in an upper-middle class family with an older brother, a mother, a father and, as of 10 years ago following my parents' divorce, a stepmother. Throughout my childhood, I was afforded many opportunities and luxuries including a horse, a motorcycle, family camping trips, European travel and an especially close relationship with my father. I was an excellent student, a champion athlete and popular at school. However, this is an external portrait. There was a gradual erosion of my parents' marriage and a breakdown of communication within our family. I became increasingly more isolated, scared and bitter as the years and inner turmoil accumulated. From the fifth grade on, my mother and father began drinking heavily, arguing more and growing less satisfied with their marriage. When I was 13, they divorced, and my father remarried the same

year. His new wife was threatened by me, and I by her, which was confusing and uncomfortable for all of us. Our inability to resolve this left me feeling excluded and completely isolated. And, never having been close with either my brother or mother, I had learned to count on my father for my every need. He was my father, my mother, my brother, my best friend and my playmate. Now, he was absent. At last, I declared my resistance to his marriage by remaining with my mother, though three years of living with her heavy drinking further damaged my self-esteem and my trust in others. The situation with my mother continued to worsen, and finally I moved to my father and stepmother's house. However, I was the last of five children (between them), and they communicated to me that they were through rearing children and that they resented my reentry into their family. Two years later, I graduated sixth in my class from a college preparatory high school and became an eager freshman at Florida State University. I majored in business in hopes of pleasing my father. I also joined a sorority to fill my aching need to belong and for the companionship. I fully believed that moving away from home would help free and heal me, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I felt hopeful. But, there were no instant cures to "fix" me from my years of distrust and broken dreams. "Sisterhood" provided only a momentary reprieve as it was simply unable to provide the family that I desired so much, and soon my great expectations

for salvation came tumbling down. As my struggles grew, so did my inability to deal with them. Academics provided less and less solace, and as that foundation began to deteriorate, life grew increasingly meaningless. I began drinking heavily (which I very easily hid in the social context of sorority life), I broke up with my boyfriend of several years, and my grades began to decline (academics had been the primary aspect of my life which had been fulfilling). I also began neglecting my health, eating haphazardly if at all, and driving my car carelessly. I felt as though I was "only going through the motions" and was simply waiting for a reason to call life quits. Looking back now, I can see that I had already begun to plan my death. As happens when you're looking for reasons, you find them. My best friend since third grade died by suicide the summer following my freshman year. After she took her life with a shotgun, I decided that my next disappointment or frustration would be reason enough to follow through with my own self destruction. My rationale: she did it, why can't I?! I had considered suicide many times, but I thought I was much too bright to ever attempt something so final. I had too much going for me: I was from a wealthy family, was intelligent, had the opportunity for a college education, had

many friends and was nice-looking with a good personality. And yet, I was filled with unendurable pain. I felt ambivalent. I did not want to live and I did not want to die. I could no longer co-exist with family members whose understanding of pain came from Webster's Dictionary, and I was too ashamed to communicate these feelings to anyone else for fear that they might think I was crazy or merely seeking attention, which my stepmother had previously accused me of. Besides, it was my problem and, as I was taught, I would deal with it – alone! I was scared. I decided that before I attempted suicide I had to chance reaching out, which I did in many ways. Initially, I returned to my parents' home and told my father that I wished to quit school for a semester. I explained to him that I was tired of school, unsure of my future, and needed some objectivity that could only be achieved through distance. My father's reply was to do as I pleased; the decision to quit school was mine. I was crushed. I felt that my telling him this was like holding a neon sign saying "HELP ME." I assumed that he would remember my passion for academics and see my rejection of education as a warning. I was wrong. Another disappointment. l did not directly tell him about my suicidal feelings because I counted on his ability to "read through the lines" and to reach out

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to me. Soon thereafter, I called my stepmother to tell her that I wanted to make the three-hour drive home from school to talk with her. I told her that I was thinking of purchasing a gun with the intent to hurt myself. She was quite frustrated with the entire situation between us. She insisted that I was only seeking attention, and demanded that my father not know about this, meaning that I was not to tell him that I intended to buy a gun and that by no means would she tell him. Strike two. I took most of my personal belongings to Goodwill. The man quizzically received my possessions, then thanked me graciously for my donation. I was even hopeful that he might notice the extremity of my gesture. He didn't. That same week, I quit school and began working full time, which further alienated me from my friends and lifestyle. I had no idea of what else I could do. I was feeling increasingly hopeless and alone. At last, I turned to my friends. I started methodically telling them good-bye. Mostly, I told them that I would be moving and that I might never see them again. Close friends were told that I was transferring to the University of Georgia where my boyfriend was attending school. My friends responded to me in sadness, saying that they would miss me. Still, no one heard or saw my pain. Pride prevented me from telling the truth outright. Besides, I felt as though I were wearing the word "SUICIDE" on my forehead and assumed that my friends would "read between the lines." Finals week of the semester was by far the most difficult. The friends with whom I had been able to maintain relationships were focused on their studies, and in my intense neediness I regarded their need to study as a disregard for me. Strike three. I purchased a gun. The absence of school, friends and family put me "over the edge." I felt I had no direction in life. I felt numb and decided that life was not for me. I drove to a local park, as I did not want to be found by anyone I knew. I sat listening carefully to the music and lyrics of a tape that had been given to me by my friend who had died by suicide. For almost an hour, I sat in my car with a 12-gauge shotgun pointed at various parts of my body. First my head, then my chest, then my abdomen. I teased the trigger of the gun until the shot blasted. My stomach blew wide open. Reality was forced upon me. What had I done? Someone please help me! I might die! I really did not want to die, or if so, only for a little while. With my last bit of strength and a sudden and mighty will to live, I opened my

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www.spokenheartcounseling.com car door, threw the gun on the pavement, and laid on the car horn to summon help. A jogger in the park came to my aid. He sent someone to call an ambulance, then placed his shirt on the gaping wound, which prevented me from bleeding to death. I was awake until the nurses in the emergency room told me to hold on to life, then the anesthesia wiped away my consciousness. I awoke the following day with blurred vision, an incredible thirst and unclear thoughts. It was not a nightmare. It had happened. The first face I remember seeing was my brother's. I will never forget his big, blue eyes looking at me. He had always looked up to me and had thought that I was the only one in the family who was "together." He just stared in disbelief. I could see that he had been crying, and I reached for his hand. He took my hand and told me that he loved me. He told me that everything would be all right and I believed him. I had to. My father was greatly affected by my suicide attempt. His little girl had given up on life. I lay in my hospital bed watching my father cry for the first time in my life as he read various passages I had underlined in my Bible. At that moment, I felt such anguish. I was angry at him for showing his emotions and for not having shown them before. And I was sad for both of us because I knew how deeply we both loved each other. It took many weeks to realize that God had put me here for a purpose, and even though I wasn't quite sure what that purpose was, I really was happy to be alive. It was time that I find meaning in life and I had to decide what I was going to do. The next month was very frustrating for me as I virtually had to learn how to walk again. Due to my need for constant attention and care, my parents took me to their home in Georgia. Much pressure was placed on my stepmother as she had to shower

me three times a day (to cleanse the wound), change my bandages (including a colostomy), and literally dress and feed me. Being so helpless and dependent on my stepmother was especially difficult for me because I felt that she helped me only out of sympathy and loyalty to my father, not out of love for me. My anger, hurt, humiliation and frustration became the energy that fueled my recovery. It motivated me once again to prove myself. But this time I would do it for me. Four months after my attempt, I returned to Florida State having recovered amazingly well. I decided to return to the friends, education and routine that had once been so important. For perhaps the first time in my life, I faced my problems and myself. I walked into the sorority house in which I was to live, and even though I felt awkward, I knew that this was the place that I wanted to be. I was met with smiles, questionable stares and careful conversation. I desperately wanted to tell them that I was well, happy and that I loved them, but instead, my face portrayed a tired, thin, little girl. It took time for me to become relaxed and comfortable around everyone. I also entered counseling, realizing that there is strength in directly seeking help. Years of pent up emotions of fear, disappointment and anger had left me with a need for objectivity and support. I also needed to learn to cope with life's difficulties and to learn to communicate my feelings and needs to others. The initiation and commitment to my own healing required courage, determination and work. Now, after four years of counseling and personal commitment to change, I have gained a new perspective and I have come to know, like and accept myself much more. At last, I have chosen to take responsibility for my direction in life. The pain has been an awesome price for the insight. Regardless of so many warning signs, no one recognized my pain. I played a dangerous guessing game, the stakes were high, and everyone involved paid a price. I just kept hoping that someone would "figure it out." I almost died. Please don't let this happen to you or someone you love. Reach out and be available to those who reach out to you. I'm tremendously fortunate that in spite of my efforts, I didn't succeed. I would never have lived to know that I could successfully complete graduate school and have fulfilling relationships. I would never have known the love that so many people have for me. I now celebrate April 25 (the day of the suicide attempt) as a turning point – a birthday of sorts – in a life that I am finally glad to be a part of.

A Note From The Publisher: Did the poem "Please Hear What I'm Not Saying" on pages 20 and 21 touch your heart? It touched mine. Drs. Fred and Anne Richards, gave me this poem when they learned I would be working on a special issue about suicide. I read the first few lines and cried through the rest. I immediately contacted the author, Charles C. Finn, and requested permission to publish his poem in the September issue of West Georgia Woman. He kindly gave me permission, and offered to send me a copy of the book he wrote about this poem that has touched so many lives around the world since it was written in 1966. Included in his book is a chapter specifically on the topic of suicide, in which people from around the world have responded on how his poem helped them through the very hardest of times, when they came close to the brink. I eagerly await my copy. If you would like more information, or to purchase a copy of the book, please visit his website at: www.poetrybycharlescfinn.com PROLOGUE

Standing at that magical place where sand meets sea, you likely have imagined putting a message in a bottle, consigning it to the waves, hoping it might some day reach another shore, and then not only be read but, incredibly across space and time, make a difference in other lives now connected to your own. It has happened to me, and I must sing of it. In the autumn of 1966, I let the waves carry off a poem – passed around to students, family and friends, no need for even my name on it. Its message was simple: Keep heart, you are not alone; love, stronger than strong walls, will come, helping your heart in hiding grow wings, feeble perhaps at first, but wings! Word astoundingly began to come back in 1969, and has continued since, that “Please Hear What I'm Not Saying" was indeed reaching other shores, across space and time was indeed making a difference in other lives. What follows attests to the power of words from the heart to touch other hearts, sometimes even to change other lives. Read on. You, too, will sing of it.

Elizabeth Jo Lawler

September 23, 1999 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; April 12, 2016 Written by Dawn Lawler, Elizabeth's mother

his is the face of a young girl with her entire future before her. She was a daughter. A sister. A granddaughter. Greatgranddaughter. Niece. Cousin. Friend. She left so many people behind to mourn her departure. The people who attended her funeral filled an entire church. She left a huge hole in people's hearts,

especially those of her family. She was a brilliant artist. She was an amazing soul with a boundless capacity for love and acceptance and equality. Unfortunately, her acceptance and love did not extend to herself. She was often unsure of friendships and of her place in this world. No matter how people tried to reassure her and build her self confidence, it fell on deaf ears. Anxiety and depression can drown out even the strongest of voices, except the voice that screams that a person is unworthy of life itself.

Please Don't Use The Phrase "Committed Suicide"

This is the face of a beautiful girl. The face of anxiety. The face of depression. The face of suicide.

Until the early 1960s, suicide was considered a criminal act in this country. The laws have changed, fortunately, but our language about suicide has not. Most people still refer to someone dying by suicide as "committing suicide," which implies the person committed some type of criminal act. The word "commit" can mean many things, but the term is mostly used in a negative manner, and is often associated with some type of wrong-doing. Suicide is a public health issue. Ninety percent of people who die by suicide are suffering from some type of mental illness, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. People who die by suicide are not criminals. Many are struggling with severe emotional distress at the time of their deaths, and they feel there is no other solution to help them escape the pain they are enduring at that moment. Next time, when you talk about suicide, please use the phrase "died by suicide," and don't be afraid to talk with survivors about their loved ones who have tragically died in this manner. By changing your language about suicide, you have the power to minimize the intense shame and stigma that is associated with suicide that many survivors are left with after their loved one's death. By showing compassion and kindness and changing your words, you can truly make a difference in the lives of those left behind.

Jullian Amber Lawson April 30, 2000 –August 28, 2014 Written by Tina Thompson Occhipinti, Jullian’s Mother

ince losing Jullian in 2014, my heart eagerly honors her beautiful spirit whenever her name is mentioned, or, more often, when a memory drapes my heart; but what I will forever have a hard time wrapping my mind and my heart around is the fact that my beautiful daughter, so full of life and love, died by suicide. Jullian was the light of my life, she still is. She was a bright light for many people, always offering a hug and a smile. She was full of genuine love and unconditionally offered her friendship to so many.

Jullian knew she was loved, and she knew there was a life full of opportunity ahead of her. What she didn't know was how to handle the fear of the darkness that was creeping Tina and Jullian. beyond her control, into the forefront of her mind, more often than anyone was aware of. Jullian is now one of the many faces of suicide – that extremely intelligent, witty, creative, friendly, fun-loving, articulate, generous, incredibly soulful and beautiful face! To others that grieve a loved one lost to suicide, I pray for your heart to find peace as you honor your loved one's life. To those who may be feeling trapped in the darkness: you are loved and you are needed – we would rather share in your pain today Jullian with her Dachshund, Ellie, and her pet chicken. than feel the pain of our life without you tomorrow! The first Mother's Day after Jullian's death was hard. This poem popped in my head the next morning which made me feel better: "I am the mother of an angel

Jullian's 1st day of 1st grade 8/14/06. 56

My heart floats on a butterfly's wing My love is lifted up to her, in return, the birds will sing I am the mother of an angel Every flower holds a tear Every song plays out a melody, that keeps my angel near I am the mother of an angel Each heartbeat holds a precious Jullian with her horse, memory Nicky. Each breath, a vision I see

We know that she is now with God and probably running all around Heaven giving one of her special hugs to everyone. Recently, her Dachshund, Ellie, and her pet chicken have joined her in Heaven, and I know she was happy to see them. We thank God for the 14 wonderful years that He gave Jullian to us, and we want to keep her spirit alive to honor her love and our life together. We love for family and friends to share stories and pictures with us and always enjoy a hug in her memory.

My angel in my arms, her wings wrapped tight around me For I will always be the mother of an angel" Written by Judy House Thompson, Jullian's GrandMom

ur lives will never be the same since our precious Jullian left us. We will always miss her, and, in fact, miss her more as each day goes by when we think about what she would be doing if she were still with us on Earth. She was a sweet and kind soul, smart, creative and funny. Jullian loved her cousins, Parker, Sterling and Connor, and even though she died before her new baby cousin was born, she was excited to know that it was a girl, Jullian, Parker & Sterling, with their grandparents, Madison!! Judy and Elton Thompson.

Jullian and her cousin Connor.

Written by Elton Thompson, Jullian’s GrandDad

y children were a big part of my life, but due to having a demanding profession, I was not able to spend the time that I was able to spend with my older grandchildren in their active lives. Jullian’s death was a shock – I never thought one of my beloved grandchildren would not be on Earth after I was Elton holding Jullian's cousin no longer alive on Earth. Madison. Elton is wearing a shirt bearing Jullian’s photo.

There is a saying that “A picture is worth a thousand words.” I have a thousand pictures of Jullian, which I am thankful for. They are worth a lifetime to me. The last few months of Jullian’s life, she would not let me photograph her. It remains a mystery to me. Space permitting, I could furnish articles and photos of her many interests and talents for Jullian and her cousin Sterling in Woodstock, Ga. years. Jullian was a very active person who included me Jullian every day and ask Christ to give her a hug, in her activities. She spent most Saturday nights with and to let her know we love and miss her every us, and attended church each Sunday with me and night. Judy. When she was in preschool, the preacher was reading the scripture from a different version than the Bible we had. Jullian looked up at me and said that he was missing a lot of the words. When she was around 6 years old, she asked to usher with me during communion. As I was standing with the other three ushers, I felt a tug on my coat, and Jullian had walked down the aisle and was standing with us. Jullian was a wonderful part of everything in our life. All of our grandchildren started snow skiing at age 4. Jullian traveled with us driving to Colorado during winter and summer. She and her friends had parties around the pool at our home with her cousin, Parker, taking them boating on our lake. Jullian loved all animals, and it was mutual, all animals loved her. It was unreal how she could work and play with animals. It should not have been surprising, she hugged everyone and all animals. Sometimes we may hurt from the loss of someone so much that we may think it would have been better not to have it as part of our life. Some may not be able to acknowledge and talk about that part of their lives, but I had rather have had Jullian’s 14 years as part of my life than not have the enjoyment Jullian and her cousin Parker walking on the beach together. of having Jullian in my life. I think of my beautiful

Daniel James McKee January 18, 1967 – November 16, 2014 But not just for me – he was always there if anyone in his family needed him, or my parents, or any of our friends. To know him was to love him. n Nov. 16, 2014, the world lost one of Danny was the kind of guy who would give the best men I’ve ever had the honor of someone his last dollar or the shirt off his back if knowing. Daniel James McKee, known by they needed it. He stopped and helped people on me and most people as Danny, also answered to the sides of roads. He could fix anything from cars Dano (I can’t hear the phrase to household appliances. He built a storage unit in “Book em, Dano” anymore my back yard that looks way better than any of the without thinking of him), Dan, Daniel and even Larry because ones you can buy already built. And he built it all by himself, from the bottom up. He built a room in my of his hilarious imitation of Larry the Cable Guy. basement to keep my cats off of the hot water We met in the seventh grade (I had a HUGE crush on him, heater, a deck on the side but it was one-sided!) and went of my house, and he put up a fence around his to school together for a few yard. years. After the 10th grade, it He even renovated would be over 20 years before a house for a friend in our paths would south Georgia. Most people would have cross again, refused that project through a mutual friend. because the house had so much termite damage, but not Danny! He fixed that house up to look like it He was my was brand new. He took pride in all of his projects, boyfriend for eight years and so everything he did looked like it was done by a my best friend professional. for 10 years. He was always cracking jokes and making people laugh. You couldn’t be in a bad mood around Danny. He was there for me through Sometimes he would tell a joke and get so tickled at it that he couldn’t even finish the punch line. And thick and thin. Written by Becky Williamson, Daniel's Fiancée

because he had such an infectious laugh, everyone would be cracking up before he even finished telling the joke, whether it was funny or not. He also liked to make up voices. He would just start talking in a funny voice, and it would take on a life of its own – we would have conversations with each other like that. He once called my parents and left them a message on their phone in one of his voices, and my mother said she doesn’t think she has ever seen my daddy laugh so hard! They still, to this day, laugh at that. We always had such a good time together. I will always remember going down the road and Danny singing a song with the radio at the top of his lungs. When he didn’t know the words he would just make something up, and it always rhymed and fit right in with the song. He Danny and Becky was just one of those people who was naturally funny and quick-witted. Sometimes, it wasn’t necessarily what he said, but the way he said it, but he made me laugh every day. He loved fast cars, and he got me into watching drag racing. Every year when the races came to the Atlanta Dragway, we went to watch. We would walk around and meet the drivers and get autographs. ESPN would always be there, randomly filming people and, while I was running away from them, he would literally chase down the camera trying to get on TV. I caught him several times trying to get in the background of peoples’ pictures, too! That used

to always make me laugh. But it wasn’t always laughs. He was there during the tough times, too. At one point, when we first started dating, my grandmother had to be hospitalized, and we were all worried sick. I remember Danny saying “She’ll be all right,” and she was! That wasn’t the only time he told me something was going to be all right, and then it was. He was the only person that ever said that to

my side through those terrible times and made sure all of the bowls, beds and collars were put up so I wouldn’t have to see them and get upset. We had our moments, like every couple, but in my head I always thought we were going to end up together, 90 years old in our chairs on the porch, cracking jokes and talking in one of those crazy voices. He always told me I was his rock – I don’t know about that, but I do know for sure that he was mine. The world was definitely a better place with him in it, and my world will never be the same without him. I love you, Danny, always.

me who I always believed. He had a calming effect over people, just in his mannerisms and the way he talked. If I was stressed out about something, I always felt better when I was around Danny. Years later, that same grandmother that was in the hospital passed away, and I don’t think I could have made it through that funeral without him. When I had to make the decision to put two of my dogs and one of my cats to sleep, Danny was right there by

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Out Of The Darkness Written by Chad Taylor

uicide seems like the selfish way out, doesn’t it? If not selfish, then certainly a permanent ending to a temporary problem. Perhaps suicide is the way of the “chicken.” Certainly these thoughts, as well as others, can be validated through rational thought. However, a person that is willing take his or her own life is not thinking rationally, yet they believe in their heart of hearts that suicide is not only rational, but the right thing to do. It is as if the one considering suicide was perfectly “normal,” and the next minute their brains have been rewired. I have experienced that “rewiring,” and putting everything back into the proper perspective took time, the help of others and a new understanding of self worth. It was nearly 25 years ago, but I still remember the day so vividly. I remember the sounds, the smells and even what I was wearing that day. I remember coming to the conclusion that the expectations that had been placed on me would never be reality. I recall feeling as though I could vomit as that realization sank in. The idea of disappointing so many people had cut so deeply, and suddenly, the thought of putting a bullet through my brain actually made sense. I established a plan. I wrote a note to my girlfriend. I drove to my parents' house (I no longer

lived there – I had been asked to move out because of my choices) to get the gun. I placed my note under a brick and sat down on the back porch. I placed a revolver in my mouth and put my finger on the trigger. Tears ran down my face as I imagined my mom finding me after it was over. I felt it would be a good idea to pull the hood on my shirt over my head and pull the string tight to limit splatter. Several things passed through my mind. All of them were concerns for others, and I made the necessary adjustments as I saw fit at the time and I placed the gun in my mouth once more. As the cool metal touched the roof of my mouth I began to pray. I asked God to forgive me. I asked Him to help my parents through what would come from this and for him to help others understand why this was the best thing for everyone. The last thing I asked of Him was for Him to accept me into Heaven and for it not to hurt too much. I can’t even begin to explain the flood of emotions and memories as I sat there. From all of the “noise” in my head, a thought of asking for help made its way above everything else. I began to remember the love that my parents had for me – how their love could be tough, but apparent. I remembered the times when I felt I didn’t have answers, but my parents helped me work it out. I came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, this was a time when they could help me see an alternative.

I made up my mind I would knock on the door once. It was almost 4 a.m. I had bargained with myself if one of them heard me, I would talk to them. If not, I would finish what I had started. As I made my way to the door and started to knock, I could see the silhouette of my mother standing in the dark living room. She came to the door without me having to knock. I had my note in one hand and the pistol, hammer cocked, in the other. She turned on the light, opened the door and I walked in. I handed her my note and stood there long enough for her to read enough of the note and come to an understanding of my plan. She immediately called for my dad and he came running. She handed the note to him and I remember collapsing on the floor. All I could do was apologize over and over while crying. My dad quickly called our pastor, and my mom talked me into sitting on the couch. She asked me many questions, and I answered as best I could. It wasn’t long before a deacon from our church arrived, and the pastor came shortly after. Calls were made, and I was escorted to my old room. I was told that I would be accepted into what I now refer to as the “nervous hospital,” a term used in the movie “Sling Blade” that I have adopted with a smile. My pastor prayed with me and asked the Lord to grant me guidance and peace. He left me to sleep, and I did. I slept for about four hours. It was the most I had slept in weeks. Later that morning, we made our way to the hospital. There were numerous introductions and interviews, all of which to were to help determine my course of treatment. I was soon stripped of my belt, shoe strings, pocket knife and anything I could harm myself with. I would later attend art therapy, pet therapy, group therapy and a ton of other therapies. I soon learned that I was in a safe place and surrounded by people whose troubles seemed much worse than my own. I found everything that was happening to me to be weird, but I was willing to commit to the program. For six weeks, I listened to others share their brokenness. I shared mine as well. As the days passed, food began to have taste again. I found an appreciation for the little things. I had forgotten the smell of fall. I taken for granted just how many leaves were on the trees and the sound they make when the wind passed through them. All of the perceived expectations of others had robbed me of seeing the beauty of God’s creation. It was then that it occurred to me that not only the wind, the trees, their leaves were created by Him, but I was His creation too! “Fearfully and

wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). I realize now that I placed a great deal of pressure on myself that wasn’t necessary. No one really expected me to be perfect. If there was anyone who did expect that of me, I came to the understanding that they only had as much power over my selfimage as I would allow. The biggest thing I grasped during this time was that so many people had far more to be upset about than I did. By listening to others and creating relationships with them, I realized I was not alone in my shame and suffering. It was through sharing the shattered lives of others that I could find the way to become whole. I cannot put into words how frightened those who consider suicide are. My vocabulary falls short of articulating their irrational thought. I speak from experience when I say that family, friends and a loving God can pick up the pieces and build a new life from what seems to be a complete mess. Although we can’t fully understand what each person is going through, we can be the friend that offers less advice and listens more. We can make the choice to set aside the façade and be real. We can be willing to lend a hand to pick up the pieces and restore a broken life.

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Johnnie Mack Wyatt August 30, 1955– March 20, 1987

Written by Brenda Wyatt Patterson, Mack's sister

y brother, Mack Wyatt, was a wonderful brother and friend. He was four years younger than me, and from the first time I saw him, I loved him with all my heart and soul. He grew up, married and had two little boys he adored. When his marriage ended, he could not get over not being with his children every day, and he became very depressed. I tried to help in every way that I knew. I talked, made doctors appointments and prayed a lot. I bought him a Bible, which he did read, and I am thankful for that. He just could not pull himself out of that dark place. On March 20, 1987, my precious brother, at the age of 31, picked up a gun and ended his life. He also ended my life as I knew it. I was devastated. He was so depressed that I believe in his mind, he thought he was a burden to his family. When you love someone, they are never a burden, but he couldn’t understand that. If he had a few minutes to think, I don’t believe he would have done this to his children, his mother, brother or me. Anyone that has never dealt with a suicide of a loved one does not understand. I had people ask me why I didn’t help him. I wanted to scream that I did, but I stayed silent. For anyone who is depressed, please get help. Do not do this to yourself or your family. I have a hole in my heart that has been there for 29 years and will be there for as long as I live. My brother has

missed so much; he would be a grandfather now. Suicide is selfish; your pain goes away, but for the people that love you, the pain never ends. You will always be missed.

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SHEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S GOT GAME From Coaching A Few To Leading Hundreds: Former Coach Moves On To Middle School Assistant Principal 65

im Causey recently ended her career in coaching after 11 years of dedicated service to the young athletes of Haralson County Middle and High Schools. During her 11 years of teaching, she coached nine years of middle school and two years of high school girls' basketball, one year of middle and high school softball, and she spent four years as the high school tennis assistant coach. During Kim's extensive coaching career, they won the Girls Basketball League Championship in 20052006 and 2011-2012 seasons and were first runners up in the 2012-2013 and 2013-2014 seasons. In 2007, when she was the head girls' middle school softball coach, they also won the West Georgia Middle School League Championship. Although Kim decided to leave coaching to be "just a mom in the stands," she is continuing to dedicate her life to the career she loves in a different capacity. She was promoted as Haralson County Middle School's assistant principal and has begun the 2016-2017 school year in her new role. She lives in Buchanan, Ga., with her husband, Brad, and their daughter, Victoria – Tori, for short. Kim and Brad stay very busy with Tori's athletic activities, but in her spare time, Kim plays in several tennis leagues. She is currently playing in an ALTA Mixed Doubles League.

West Georgia Woman: Tell me about your practice regimen. Kim Causey: Our practice regimen is very structured. Coach Norred and I collaborate and discuss specific areas that we need to focus on in practice the next day and then form a practice plan

to ensure we get all aspects covered. Each minute of the two-hour practice is accounted for so we can get the most out of everyone’s time. The girls start by stretching, followed by a variety of drills and shooting practice, before we move into the meat of the practice, which is implementing and reviewing plays, presses, press breaks, and some scrimmaging. Afterwards, we normally end with free-throwing shooting. WGW: How far in advance do you begin to prepare for a basketball season? KC: We truly begin to start planning for the next season once the current season ends. We take about a week break to recharge our batteries, and we get back to the grind by reflecting on things that worked or didn’t work in the season, looking at the calendar and planning open gyms, summer workouts and games. Preparation is a key part to being successful! WGW: How do you lead your students by example? KC: I always try to exemplify the same character traits that I expect from them: kindness, respect, and responsibility. Respect is a big deal for middle schoolers and I try to teach them on a daily basis that it has to be earned. I treat them with respect and I expect the same from them. It is definitely a work in progress, but by the end of the school year, I always see amazing results, which just enhances my love for teaching. WGW: What made you decide to become a basketball coach? KC: I have always wanted to be a teacher and

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coach. I played basketball all through my middle and high school years and served as a community coach while working on my Bachelor’s degree. When given the opportunity, I jumped right on the chance to become a coach. My first year teaching, I was the middle school head basketball coach, and assistant varsity softball and tennis coach at the high school. To say I was busy is an understatement! WGW: Who in your life impacted your decision to go into this field? KC: I have always wanted to be a teacher since I was a little girl. However, I had many wonderful teachers growing up who served as role models and encouraged me to go into the field of teaching. Fortunately, when I began teaching, many of them were still teaching so that was an honor to get to work with them after being their student. WGW: Tell me about your biggest fan – growing up and now as an adult. KC: My parents have always been my biggest fans! They were at every ballgame in all sports that I played growing up and still continue to this day to be at the games that I coach. My husband has also been very supportive of me coaching, even when it meant more work on him at home. I am blessed to have all of their support.

WGW: Being a coach requires a great deal of hours and sacrifice. What keeps you motivated? KC: Of course it is the kids that keep me motivated. One of the best things as a coach is when you see a kid working hard

to try to learn something new, and it finally clicks for them. That just motivates me more to work harder so I can push them to accomplish their next task. WGW: How do you balance your work as an academic teacher and a coach? KC: I have to be very diligent at utilizing every minute of my day. During the season, I have to leave as soon as my last class is finished; during my planning period, I make sure to go ahead and have everything prepared and ready for the next day. It is exhausting to constantly be running straight from school to the gym for several more hours, but I can honestly say, I loved every second of it, and I would do it all again. WGW: What subjects do you teach in school? KC: For my first five years of teaching, I taught 7th grade language arts and the last six has been 7th grade social studies. WGW: How many hours are required of you to coach? KC: I can’t even count the hours that are required of coaching. We truly work year-round to build the program and improve upon each season. WGW: What advice would you give a young woman who is interested in coaching at the high school level? KC: I would suggest finding a mentor who is a successful and established high school coach, and soak up every bit of knowledge you can from them.

I coached for nine years at the middle school level, but I learned more in the two years working with Tammy Norred, who is a very successful high school basketball coach, than I ever could have imagined! No matter how little or much experience you have, there is always room to grow and learn. WGW: Do you still play basketball? KC: The only basketball I have played since graduating from high school is in our student-faculty Basketball games, which were A LOT of fun!! WGW: What type of support do you receive from family and friends? KC: I have an outpouring of support from my family and friends. My husband has always supported my professional and coaching decisions and has been so helpful making sure our home and daughter are well taken care of. My daughter constantly reassures me that I have her support, as well as the rest of my family. My mom, brother, and great uncle are consistently there at the games when Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m coaching and cheering the team and me on from the stands. My friends are my saving grace because they are constantly encouraging me and are always there when I just need to talk about life. I am truly blessed beyond measure to have such wonderful people in

my life, and Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m honestly grateful for each and every one of them. WGW: You've recently went through some major life changes, including leaving coaching. What are you doing now and what impacted your decision to stop coaching? KC: I have recently been hired to be the assistant principal at Haralson County Middle School! I am super excited about this new position and am looking forward to the upcoming school year. However, I had already resigned from coaching before the assistant principal position was open. As much as I loved coaching and working with Coach Norred, I was ready to just be a mom in the stands. I have coached for 11 years and the past five of those have been coaching my daughter. Even though we made a smooth transition over the years (seasons) from mother-daughter to coach-player, I just wanted to finish out her last two high school years as just being her mom and number one supporter. WGW: You became a wife and mother soon after you graduated high school. What challenges did you face before beginning your career as a teacher? KC: I still remember the deep desire that I had to go to college to be a teacher, but I was worried

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that it wouldn’t be realistic for me to do so with starting these new roles as a wife and mother. I tried thinking of other professions that I could go into that wouldn’t take as much time to go to college for as teaching would, but I was never satisfied with doing anything else. Teaching was the only thing I had ever wanted to do, and I couldn’t let it go. Thankfully, my husband stood fully behind my decision to pursue my dreams, and I began college when Tori was 5 months old. It took me five years to get my Bachelor’s degree. There were many times I wanted to give up because it was so hard juggling all of my responsibilities at home and school, but I am extremely glad I didn’t. The sacrifices made have paid off a million times over since then. My first year of teaching was when Tori started kindergarten. God just worked things out in His own timing and way, which were perfect! Since then, I have received my master's and educational specialist degrees, and I absolutely love being in the education profession. WGW: Is there anything else you would like our readers to know about you? KC: I cannot express enough how much I have enjoyed coaching over the years, through the

wins and the losses. Coaching is truly about more than wins and losses. I love the relationships that I have established over the years with my players. I am friends with many of them on social media, and I love watching them grow up and establish their own families and lives. WGW

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Daily Fare ”Adapt these recipes to your tastes and your lifestyle. That’s what I want you to feel the freedom to do with my recipes. You are more talented and creative than you give yourself credit for!” Julie Culpepper Julie Culpepper is a Georgia native living in Carrollton for the past 26 years with her husband Alan and their adult children. She became a personal chef after graduating culinary school in 2012 and loves working with two companies that she incorporates into her style of cooking- Branch and Vine in Newnan and Doterra, an online source for essential oils located in Utah. For further information about contacting Julie or these companies, please feel free to contact her at : jculpep4@gmail.com or culpepperoilsolutions@mydoterra.org

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Meat Lovers Italian Sub With Roasted Red Pepper Aioli and

Sweet Potato Gnocchi with Mushroom Gravy and Meatballs There are a lot of ingredients for this Italian Sub and Aioli, but they are all easily obtained and easy to prepare. You will be able to make a masterpiece that is delicious, and a much better sandwich than you can buy at the sub shop! This mouthwatering Sweet Potato Gnocchi with mushroom gravy and meatballs entrée has a few steps that can seem intimidating if you have never tried to make it before, but hopefully you will find that it is not difficult and well worth the effort. This gnocchi is a richly savory and satisfying meal that goes well with crusty bread and a salad. Enjoy!

Photos by Michelle Horsley

Ingredients

For the Aioli 1 12-ounce jar roasted red peppers, drained 1 tablespoon garlic paste ½ cup mayonnaise 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil For the sandwich 1 large loaf Italian bread ¼ pound sliced Genoa salami ¼ pound sliced Italian mortadella ¼ pound sliced capicolla ¼ pound thinly sliced prosciutto ¼ pound sliced provolone cheese ¼ cup sliced muenster cheese (all of the above items can be easily obtained from a good market deli) Sliced tomatoes (any kind and color of your preference) ¼ cup shredded Parmesan Reggiano cheese 1 cup shredded fresh mozzarella cheese (but not too wet) 1 teaspoon dried oregano About 12 fresh basil leaves

Instructions Preheat oven to 400 degrees. To prepare the sub sandwich: Slice open the bread loaf down the middle. Take the top of the crust off by slicing carefully along the top (enough to make the top of the sandwich flat). Lay onto two long sheets of aluminum foil that will be able to cover and seal the finished sandwich. Spread a

generous layer of aioli onto the inner sides of each loaf of bread (about 2 tablespoons each side). Top the bottom half of the loaf with about half of the basil leaves. Begin placing the sliced meats onto the bottom half of the bread. Then layer the provolone and muenster cheese slices onto the meats. Place the top half of the loaf onto the sandwich. Place the basil leaves and tomato slices onto the flat top of the sandwich. In a small bowl, combine the mozzarella cheese, Parmesan cheese and oregano. Top the sliced tomatoes with the shredded Parmesan and mozzarella cheese and oregano mixture. Press onto sandwich with your hands gently. Carefully fold the aluminum foil over your masterpiece and seal the edges. Place onto a baking sheet and heat in oven for about 15 minutes. You can open the foil after that and broil the top to brown if you would like after the sandwich is heated through. Allow to sit for a few minutes, and slice carefully when serving with a serrated knife so the ingredients will remain stacked. To prepare the aioli: Place all the ingredients into a food processor and combine until smooth. Keep in a small glass container until ready for use. Can be made ahead of time and will keep about 3 to 5 days. This will make more than what is needed for the sandwich, so try it in other dishes like pasta or as a topping. This sandwich can be made the day before and kept in fridge until time to heat it, but you may need to heat an additional 10 minutes or so. Serves 4

Ingredients For the Gnocchi 2 cups sweet potato (canned or fresh that has been skinned and boiled until tender) 1 egg 2 to 3 cups whole wheat flour ½ teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg For the mushroom gravy and meatballs ½ cup chicken stock 1 ¼ cups white wine (not sweet) 3 tablespoons flour ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil Salt 74and pepper to taste

1 teaspoon garlic powder 1 teaspoon onion powder ½ cup heavy cream ½ cup water mixed with 2 tablespoons cornstarch 1 12-ounce package sliced mushrooms 1 tablespoon butter 1 bag frozen premade meatballs (3-4 per person) turkey or beef Freshly shaved Parmesan Reggiano cheese Freshly chopped parsley for garnish Instructions Gnocchi Puree the sweet potato in a food processor until smooth. In a large bowl combine the egg, nutmeg, salt, and cooled sweet potato until uniform. Add enough flour to form a soft dough that is not too tacky to work with. Knead a few minutes until you have a soft ball. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 30 minutes. Can be refrigerated 2 to 3 days beforehand. Fill a medium pot with water, add ½ teaspoon salt and bring to a low boil while you are preparing the gnocchi. Cut the ball of dough into 4 equal pieces and roll each piece into a long thin cylinder, about ½ inch thick. Cut the cylinders into ½ inch pieces, roll lightly in flour. Press a fork lightly over one side to give each piece ridges that will adhere better to the sauce. Cook the gnocchi pieces in boiling water until each piece floats to the surface, about 3 minutes. Do this in batches, and do not overcrowd the pot. Strain each batch and place into a bowl, cover and keep warm until ready for service. You can freeze the pieces in wax paper layers and tightly sealed in a container if you do not want to cook all of them at one time Mushroom Gravy with Meatballs Melt 1 tablespoon of butter on medium-high heat in a large saute' pan, and add the mushrooms. Sauté until tender, about 3 to 4 minutes and add salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a bowl and keep warm while you prepare the sauce. In the same large sauté pan on medium-high heat, add the oil and allow to get hot but be careful to not allow it to smoke and get too hot. Add the chicken stock, wine, garlic powder, onion powder, salt and pepper to taste. Allow liquid to come to a low boil and keep it simmering, but not at a fast boil. Add at least ¼ cup of the cornstarch mixture and continue adding until the sauce gets to your desired thickness. Adjust seasonings if needed, then add the cream, mushrooms, and about 3 meatballs per person. Cover and allow to heat through, stirring often to keep sauce from sticking. Place about 1 cup of gnocchi into a bowl and ladle the meatballs and mushroom sauce over it. Garnish with Parmesan cheese and parsley. Serves 4 to 6

Obesity, Depression, And Suicide

Learn How to Stop the Cycle By Habiba N. Shaw

ecause many people don’t talk about it, they might not know that suicide is prevalent today. Suicide was the 10th-leading cause of death for all ages in 2013, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. There were 41,149 suicides in 2013 in the United States. Sadly, the CDC estimates there is one suicide for every estimated 25 suicide attempts. September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. According to American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, 90 percent of people who die by suicide have a diagnosable and treatable psychiatric disorder at the time of their death. Although it’s a delicate conversation, we can help others and talk about suicide prevention without increasing the risk of harm. Do you know someone who is suffering from depression? Are you or someone in your family suffering from "stoutness?" Forty-three percent of adults with depression are obese. A report from National Health and Nutrition Examination Surveys (2005–2010) shows that adults with depression were more likely to be heavier than adults without depression. The report also indicates that 55 percent of adults who were taking antidepressant medication, but still reported moderate to severe depressive symptoms, were obese. Extreme body fat is associated with suicidal behavior and suicide attempts in adults. In 2010,

a review of 15 studies published in the Archives of General Psychiatry, also confirms that obesity is frequently accompanied by depression, and the two can trigger and influence each other. There is also a strong relationship between women with a high body-mass index and more frequent thoughts of suicide. Approximately 10 percent of severely obese bariatric-surgery-seeking individuals report a lifetime history of suicide attempts, a higher rate than in the general population. Although the complex associations between stress, depression and obesity are not fully understood, stress is known to trigger unhealthy behaviors such as increased alcohol consumption, increased preference for foods high in sugar or fat, disordered eating, lack of regular exercise and altered sleep patterns, all of which can lead to weight gain as well as increased susceptibility to depression. Discrimination, whether actual or perceived, can also be a source of stress.

Depression With Weight Loss Attempts “When you are depressed, it is much harder to get out of bed, much less pay attention to what you are eating,” says Edward Abramson, Ph.D., an emeritus professor of psychology at California

State University at Chico. “If someone comes to me who is severely depressed and overweight, the depression is going to be the primary focus.” If you or your loved one is overweight and depressed, get help immediately. Please make appointments with a doctor and a therapist. If you are suicidal, please call 911 or 1-800-273-8255. Treating depression often takes an approach that may include counseling, medication as well as exercise, a healthy diet and other lifestyle measures.

Combine Exercise With A Balanced Healthy diet • Start exercising: Start with five minutes a day of walking or any activity you enjoy and you'll want to keep doing. Soon, five minutes of activity will become 10, and 10 will become 15. Antidepressant medications are a common way to treat depression. However, pills aren't the only solution. Research shows that exercise is an all-natural treatment to fight depression. • Try to adapt a healthy lifestyle approach rather than dieting: A healthy lifestyle approach is the constant and conscious effort to stay healthy and achieve the highest potential for well-being. Just delete the word “diet” from your mind. It took a long time for you to gain this weight, so take your time and gradually lose it. Stop unhealthy weight control behaviors such as fasting, skipping breakfast and meals, eating very little food, purging and using diet pills, laxatives or diuretics. • Eat a diet high in nutrients: Don’t eat food for pleasure and entertainment only. Eat nutritious food that will support the body's repair, growth and wellness. A deficiency of nutrients leads to your body not working at full capacity and can even cause illness.

A Healthy Eating Pattern Includes: • A variety of vegetables from all of the subgroups – dark green, red and orange, beans and peas, starchy and others • Fruits, especially whole fruits • Grains, at least half of which are whole grains • Fat-free or low-fat dairy, including milk, yogurt, cheese or fortified soy beverages • A variety of protein foods, including seafood,

lean meats and poultry, eggs, lentils, nuts, seeds and soy products (caution: nuts and seeds are high in calories) • Consume eight, 8-ounce glasses of water or beverages each day. • Eat Lean Protein-Rich Foods to Boost Alertness: foods rich in protein, like turkey, tuna, or chicken, are rich in an amino acid called tryptophan, which may help increase production of the brain chemical serotonin. This is thought to play a role in mood regulation. Try to include a protein source in your diet several times a day, especially when you need to clear your mind and boost your energy. Other good sources of healthy proteins are beans and peas, lean beef, low-fat cheese, fish, milk, poultry, soy products and yogurt. • Limit sugary foods and include “complex” carbohydrates: choose 100-percent whole grain cereal, bread, pasta and brown rice rather than simple carbohydrates (such as cakes and cookies). • Choose Foods That Help Fight Depression: Eat apricots, broccoli, cantaloupe, carrots, collards, peaches, pumpkin, spinach and sweet potato, as they are good sources of beta-carotene. Add vitamin-C-rich food such as blueberries, broccoli, grapefruit, kiwi, oranges, peppers, potatoes, strawberries and tomatoes to your plate. Finally, don't be discouraged over "bad days" when you have a setback. Don’t dwell on the past failures. Instead of feeling guilty, write down what thoughts or feelings caused you to eat unhealthy food on a particular day. Please forgive yourself, love yourself, and take the best care of yourself that you can. After all, you and you alone are in the very best position to do so. If you are not going to start now, then when? WGW Dr. Habiba Shaw was a member of the National Speaker’s Association, Alabama Chapter, and is regarded as an expert in healthy lifestyles. Dr. Shaw has a Doctorate Degree in Health Care Education from Nova Southeastern University and a Master’s Degree in Food and Nutrition. Habiba, a former university health and nutrition specialist, specialized in working with medical professionals and organizations that are concerned with general health and obesity. During her thirty plus year career, Dr. Shaw wrote health and nutrition related articles for newspapers, scientific magazines, and brochures, and presented seminars to major universities and colleges in Alabama. She also appeared on local television programs in her role as a nutrition expert.

Understanding the Warning Signs of Suicide in Children

ithout question, it’s a tragedy when a young person dies – a person who has her whole life in front of her, with many adventures awaiting her. But when that death comes in the form of suicide, it seems even more tragic, knowing that something was going on in that young person’s life that caused them to think death was a better alternative. In young people ages 15 to 34, suicide is the second-leading cause of death, according to the National Institute of Mental Health. Every day, about 11 youth die by suicide. For every adolescent death by suicide, about 25 suicide attempts are made. In 2013, a Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report found that 17 percent of high school kids seriously considered attempting suicide in the past 12 months. Suicidal behavior seriously affects families, friends and communities. Understanding the warning signs of suicide is an important step toward suicide prevention. Depression is most commonly linked with suicide, but recent research indicates that other mental health conditions, such as anxiety and impulsivity, play an even larger role in suicide than had been previously considered. There is no single cause for suicide. Suicide most often occurs when a person who is already struggling with a mental health condition like depression or anxiety faces stressors that exceed the individual’s coping strategies. Children and teens going through major life transitions – such as a parents’ divorce, moving,

By Sara Anderson

having a parent leave home for military service or parental separation – or experience bullying are at greater risk for suicidal thoughts.

Factors that might also increase the risk of suicide in children or teens are:

• An alcohol or drug disorder. • Feelings of distress, hopelessness, and worthlessness often accompanied by depression. • A family history of depression or suicide or a previous suicide attempt. • Lack of a support network with parents or peers and feeling socially isolated. • Dealing with sexual identity issues and feeling unsupported by family and friends.

Identifying a risk toward suicide is hard even for professionals because there is no specific way to tell if someone is actually suicidal. Some individuals who are suicidal may never disclose their thoughts to anyone, even when asked by a professional. There are warning signs to look for, both in what a person says and does, that can help identify suicide risk. The most important thing is to take the risk seriously, no matter how young the child. Take statements seriously. Children who are depressed and feel hopeless about life might make

statements like, “No one would miss me anyhow;” “I’d be better off dead;” or “You’d be better off without me around.” Keep an eye out for behavioral changes. Some kids may start to joke about death or become preoccupied with death or violence, knives or guns. Kids who are overly risky, such as jumping from high places or running into traffic, or have little or no sense of danger, might be communicating helplessness or attempting self-harm. Isolating from friends, family or favorite activities could be a sign of increasing depression or hopelessness. Children and teens who believe that if they could join a loved one who died, they would be rid of their own pain, are at high risk for suicidal actions. Children who have had a parent attempt or die from suicide are also at high risk.

What to do if you are concerned your child or teen might be suicidal:

• Always take suicidal thoughts and behaviors seriously, no matter how young your child is. • Interact with your child positively, such as giving consistent feedback and compliments for good effort. • Increase your child’s involvement in positive activities such as promoting clubs or sports. • Appropriately monitor your teen’s whereabouts and communications (texting, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, SnapChat) with the goal of promoting safety. • Get to know your child’s friends, coaches and teachers. Communicate regularly with other parents in your community. • Talk with your teen’s teachers to ensure safety at school. • Limit access to alcohol, prescription pills,

illegal drugs, knives and guns in your home. • Talk with your child about your concerns; ask directly about suicidal thoughts. Remain calm when talking about your child’s feelings and thoughts. • Assure your child or teen that feeling better is possible, that suicidal thoughts are temporary, and that there are people who can help. • Seek out a trained child therapist. Psychotherapy and play therapy can help kids learn new and different ways of dealing with stressful experiences, such as considering alternative actions when thoughts of suicide arise. If you are concerned about your child or another loved one, help is nearby. • Behavioral Health Link is a Mobile Crisis Team in Georgia. 800-415-7225. • Suicide Crisis Hotline. 800-273-TALK (8255). • Local emergency room or 911. • Reach out to local psychotherapists throughout the West Georgia area. WGW Sara Anderson is a Licensed Professional Counselor and Certified Addiction Counselor in the state of Georgia. She is Board Certified as a Registered Play Therapist, Certified Clinical Trauma Professional, Clinical Supervisor, and Distance Counselor. Sara specializes in helping kids, teens, and adults manage anxiety and stress. As a trained play therapist, trauma specialist, and addiction counselor, Sara uses an integrative, relationally-based approach to help clients move forward successfully. Sara maintains a practice called Spoken Heart Counseling Center in Bremen, Ga. Visit www.spokenheartcounseling.com for more information about Sara and her work.

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Woman Magazine West Georgia

Celebrate HER SUCCESS

Song Of The South

Local Music Venue Owner Brings Music To Life

Photos by Dan Keever

helia Quattlebaum, co-owner of the music venue 'East of Austin' in Villa Rica, Ga., has loved music her entire life. She grew up in a loving home with two wonderful parents and her brother in what she jokingly refers to as the "real" L.A. – Lower Alabama – in the small town of Enterprise. As a small girl, she loved to sing and had dreams of growing up to be "somebody" in the music industry. She was given her first guitar at the age of 10, and performed regularly with her dad, a local musician and singer, throughout her teen years. Shelia says her first job was picking peas and butterbeans in her dad’s big garden. "I got paid, not much, but that didn’t matter. I had to do it anyway!" she laughs. "We had to get up early and get out there before the sun got too hot and have the vegetables ready to be taken to town to be sold by the time my dad got home from working his daytime job." Still dreaming of being a singer one day, she completed high school in Enterprise, and attended two local community colleges with hopes of become a psychologist and then a nutritionist. Shelia says those plans fell apart somewhere along the way, but her love for music always remained a constant in her life.

Shelia on stage introducing the Alex Guthrie Band.

The Traveler Some of Shelia's musical dreams did come true, however. One of her dreams as a singer and songwriter, was to perform at the famous Bluebird Café in Nashville, Tenn. That dream came true for her, not once, but twice. Shelia has been able to perform at the Bluebird two different times, singing the original songs she's written, and sharing the stage with people Shelia considers to be the best Nashville songwriters around. This includes Leslie Satcher, who has written hit songs for Martina McBride, Patty Loveless, George Strait, and many other artists. Shelia is also proud and honored to have been nominated and chosen to be involved in the Georgia Music Industry Association for a few years, beginning as their secretary and later as their vicepresident. As a young woman, Shelia spent her time living in all over the country. She lived in Las Vegas a couple of times with her aunt and uncle., and lived and worked in Los Angeles, Calif., Dallas, Texas, and Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. In the early 90s, she belonged to a female duo, 'Heart Over Mind,' and was performing and touring in Nevada and California. Suddenly, in Dec. 1991, Shelia's family was struck

by tragedy. Her only sibling, Mark, passed away in an automobile accident on Christmas Eve. Her family was devastated, and Shelia, feeling the need to be closer to her parents, came back home to Enterprise. "Losing my brother, who was only in his 20s, was probably the hardest thing I’ve gone through so far," she relates. "With something like this, you just have to take it one day at a time. You never get over these kinds of events."

A New Life A year and a half later, Shelia met her husband, Mike. They married, and lived in Enterprise, then relocated to West Georgia in 1999 due to Mike's job. Shelia loves tennis, and has bowled for many years as a league bowler. Mike is the co-owner of Audience members socializing before the Alex Guthrie show. East of Austin, and handles the sound systems, and does the IT work for the business. He also makes meeting and listening to, and talent abounds here. some really delicious nacho chips from scratch for the East of Austin snack bar. Shelia has a soft heart for animals, and she and Facing The Music Mike had their sweet dog, Ellie, until she passed Because Shelia has performed on stage and away at the age of 13. They also had a cat named Elwood who stole Shelia's heart. Mike comes from a toured as a singer, she understands the music business. She always had the thought in the back of family of "cat people," and Elwood was Mike's cat. her mind that she would be able to manage some Shelia had always been scared of cats and never type of music venue or club in the future. Shelia says wanted to own one until Elwood came along. Their often people who run a music venue or event, have beloved Elwood unfortunately passed away at the age of 16, but Shelia still fondly calls him her "baby." never been involved with music before. She and Mike tossed the idea around over Shelia says she loves living in West Georgia the years, but the timing, or money just wasn't because the area has some of the best singers and quite right for them. In January 2014, everything songwriters that she has ever had the pleasure of changed. Some friends of Shelia's from Nashville contacted her and asked if she would be willing to host a house concert at her home for them and she happily agreed to help. It was then that she and Mike decided to take the leap into small business ownership. "Mike and I were in our living room one day moving furniture around to see how many people we could fit in there for the show, and he looked at me and asked 'why are we doing this?'" she relates. "He said we should just go ahead and open up a music venue. We knew what we had in mind for it. Not a bar. Something like The Bluebird Café in Nashville would be just fine. Plus, we felt there was nothing like it here in our area, and really not much to do, period. So, I thought and thought, and was a little scared about it, but it got real when he looked at me and said, 'It’s now or never.' So here we are 2 ½ years later." She and Mike first opened their doors in June 2014. Shelia's first guitar hangs on the wall at East of Austin.

Not Your Average Music Venue East of Austin is an intimate 90-seat listeningroom venue, very similar to The Bluebird CafĂŠ in Nashville and Eddieâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Attic in Atlanta. A "listeningroom" is a stage show that focuses on the artist and their music in an intimate setting. East of Austin is not like a bar. There is no dancing, loud talking, drinking or smoking and no televisions in the background while the show is taking place. All members of the audience are asked to keep their conversations to a whisper and to please turn off their cell phones. "When the song is being performed, you can hear a pin drop, but when the song is over, the audience claps and whistles, and you can surely tell that everyone is enjoying it," Shelia says. "We are not boring by any means! We also offer every member of our audience the very unique experience of meeting the artists after each show, and give them an opportunity to buy the artist's merchandise. We also offer some of the best hotdogs around!" Shelia and Mike pride themselves on only having good, high-quality talent perform at their venue for their patrons."I like to say we have the best of the best performing at our venue," Shelia shares. "We offer a truly amazing experience for the music lover, or just a very nice, unique outing for a Saturday night for the audience member. We have all kinds of music, and even expect to see a few Nashville folks on the lineup every now and then! I am very picky about the quality of entertainment we have at East

of Austin." East of Austin offers an extremely clean venue, clean restrooms and a great snack bar, with very reasonable prices, to grab a bite to eat before the show. Shelia encourages all couples and singles alike to attend one of the shows. "Our venue is so clean and pretty," she says. "For those that have only been to the regular bar-type venues, when women walk in our place, they seem pleasantly surprised and very complimentary. I often tell single women who want to come to shows but are not keen on coming alone, that East of Austin is a place where you wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t feel uncomfortable coming by yourself." East of Austin is currently offering two shows a month, usually at 8 p.m. on Saturdays, and their schedule is listed on their website and Facebook page. Advance tickets may be purchased directly on the website, which is always encouraged due to limited seating. The ticket prices for a show are extremely reasonable, some are as low as $12.50 per person, depending on the artist. Sheila encourages everyone interested to check their schedule on the website for ticket prices and times. For those of you who think of just country music when you hear the name East of Austin, you would be pleasantly surprised that Shelia brings in all types of artists to play at her venue. We attended a show in July when the Alex Guthrie band was playing. Winner of the GA Music Award - 2015 Americana Artist of the Year, Alex and his band were fabulous. Their mix of blues and soul was a great show to watch, and we would definitely see them again. We also ate dinner at the venue. We purchased a barbecue sandwich and an Italian sub sandwich (both were equally delicious) nachos (fabulous and homemade by Mike), a bag of chips and two canned sodas for $13.50. Where else is a couple going to go in West Georgia to get dinner and an hour-anda-half concert from a high-quality band for less than $40-$50?

Her Advice

The artist's entrance used to walk onstage. Shelia and Mike have all the artists who play at their venue sign the front.

Shelia readily admits owning a music venue can be challenging because being in the entertainment business is not easy. Her advice to women interested in owning a business like this is to know people in the business and develop good entertainment contacts, which is very important. She says you have to be a real people-person to own a business like hers. Reaching out to mentors in the music industry is important as well, and she has several people in the business she reaches out to for advice and to answer

“

Her Support Network Although all of Shelia and Mike's family members live out of state except one, they do have some very close friends in West Georgia who are like family to them. They also have a wonderful East of Austin "family," and they are always helping Shelia and Mike spread the word about their business by bringing people to shows, passing out flyers for the venue and helping them work on some Saturday nights. Shelia says she appreciates what they have done for them so much. She says personally her biggest fans are her

When women walk in our place, they seem pleasantly surprised and very complimentary. I often tell single women who want to come to shows but are not keen on coming alone, that East of Austin is a place where you won’t feel uncomfortable coming by yourself.

“

questions. When she and Mike opened East of Austin, she didn't realize how much advertising it would take to promote the venue, and she wishes she had been more knowledgeable regarding the promotional side of the business. Her greatest challenge as a business owner has been building her clientele. "I tend to stress a little when advance ticket sales are slow or a show has low attendance," she shares. "You just want it to succeed, and for each show to be a sell-out." The best part of owning the business for Shelia is the opportunity she provides for artists and audience members alike. "I like the fact that we are providing a decent, really cool, place to perform for many artists out there," she says with a warm smile. "Life as a musician and artist has changed so much since I was performing back in the day. There used to be a lot more venues to play. Owning East of Austin also gives me an opportunity to meet so many wonderful people, in and out of the business. Our audience members are just the best!" Shelia has encountered many wonderful and heartwarming people over the years. "I was doing a songwriters’ show one time, and had just finished one of my originals I’d written when a lady stood up in the back of the room after the applause stopped," she relates. "She was crying, and she said that my song touched her so much, and she thanked me for writing it. I’ll never forget that." Shelia says each time they have a show, it's heartwarming to watch her audience members enjoying themselves. She realizes how stressful everyone's lives are, and she believes East of Austin is a wonderful place to relax and unwind, meet new people and maybe even make some great friends along the way.

parents and her husband Mike, but East of Austin also has some really big fans. Shelia says she has a few couples who come to every single show to support her and Mike. "They are the sweetest and the best," she shares. "They love what we are doing."

Music For The Soul Owning East of Austin is purely a labor of love for Shelia, and she is so very happy to be doing what she loves. Her deep love and appreciation for music is her motivation for continuing to provide good, quality entertainment in a beautiful setting at a reasonable price in West Georgia, and Shelia hopes one day they will have grown so much that they need a larger venue. "I would just like to take this opportunity to personally invite everyone to come to a show at our venue," Shelia says. "Check us out. Give us a chance to make West Georgia proud. Let’s put West Georgia and East of Austin on the map and let the music world know that Austin, Texas, isn’t the only place that has great music!" WGW

For more information, the upcoming artists schedule or to buy tickets, visit East of Austin's website at www.eastofaustinlive.com

Kidz Korner By Charlene Brooks and Sydney Dailey

Grandparents' Day Jars Filled With Love

Materials Mason jars. We bought ours for $1 at our local dollar store. Wrapping paper Glue Alphabet and decorative stickers Raffia Potpourri or assorted hard candies Instructions

Grandparents' Day is Sept. 11. Have your little ones give a gift from the heart this year with these adorable and inexpensive mason jars filled with love.

Cut the wrapping paper to fit around 3 sides of the mason jar. Glue to the front and 2 sides of the jar. Allow to dry. Use alphabet stickers for the Grandparent's name and decorate the rest of the jar with the decorative stickers. Fill jar with candy or potpourri. Tie raffia into a bow around the bottom of the lid.

Adorable Flower Magnetic Photo Frames

Instructions For the flowers Using the flower template, trace flowers on the different colored foam sheets. Cut flowers out of the foam sheets. Take four of the foam flowers and glue two of the flowers together at different angles so the petals from the back flower show through the petals of the front flower. Cut photos into a circle and glue the photos onto the centers of the foam flowers. Glue one magnet to the back of each of the flowers. Allow glue to dry. For the vase Take two of the foam sheets and cut out two vases. Glue one of the vases to the back of the other vase. Cut two strips off of the green foam sheets for flower stems. Decorate the vase as desired. Glue one magnet to the back of the vase. WGW

These precious flower photo frames are sure to be a hit with that special Grandma or Grandpa. Using your child's school or casual photos, foam sheets and a few magnets, and they will have an adorable bouquet to place right on the fridge.

Materials Paper flower template Foam sheets Foam decorative stickers Glue 3 small magnets Children's photos

Grandparents' Day Word Search Word Bank Family Love Grandma Honored Patience Grandpa Wise Visit Hugs Cozy Happy Warm Devoted Kisses

Word search created at puzzle-maker.com

Family and Cosmetic Dentistry

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