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When you’ve been trained as an entertainment lawyer, you can’t help but be a little bit cynical. So I have to admit I was somewhat skeptical when I read that the Grahams—Major General (ret.) Mark Graham, his wife Carol, and their two sons, Kevin and Jeff—seemed like “a Disney family.” Because I know that behind every Disney fantasy lies a dark and twisted fairy tale, and a deal memo that’s tough as nails.
My suspicions were justified when I met General Graham and his wife. On the surface, they certainly did look the part. I’d never met a major general before, and Mark was central casting: tall, handsome, ramrod straight, with piercing eyes and a no-nonsense manner. Carol was a lovely floating presence, all smiles and warmth, and hidden steel. But behind the general’s impressive demeanor and Carol’s innate Southern graciousness lay a story that is almost unfathomable in its cruelty.
Their younger son Kevin was a high achiever who set rigorous standards for himself but was kind to others. A deep thinker, he liked to quote Thoreau and immerse himself in music. He was eager to serve as a military doctor and had just been admitted to an elite leadership training program at Operation Warrior Forge, before his senior year of college. For all his outward perfectionism, Kevin had been going through a rough patch—he sometimes drank to excess and expressed dark thoughts. There were changes to his sleeping patterns, and his once-outstanding grades had begun to slip. He finally discussed depression with a counselor and agreed to go on medication. His parents were relieved that he seemed to be getting on track again, with order and stability in his future.
Shortly before General Graham and Carol left for an overseas posting, they visited Kevin. When his father suggested that Kevin might consider taking a leave of absence for a while before his rigorous training, he refused to abandon his plans, saying he “wasn’t a quitter.” He paid a summer’s rent on his apartment in advance. According to his parents, “he appeared to be in the best physical condition of his life.” The Grahams left for Korea, reassured and in utter ignorance of what was to come.
Six weeks later, Kevin hung himself. He had scheduled a golf game with his brother for that very morning.
Disney can get even darker. Eight months later, the Grahams’ other son, Jeff, who was also following in his father’s illustrious footsteps, was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq. Jeff received a hero’s welcome home; his funeral was mobbed. It was front-page news. With Kevin, on the other hand, there had been questions about whether his funeral service could even be held in the family church. Two deaths, but two very different battles.
The Grahams were devastated by Jeff’s death, but found it more explicable than Kevin’s: “Soldiers go to war. Soldiers get killed,” they were able to reason. With Kevin’s suicide, however, the pain and the frustration of not having anticipated or somehow prevented it was nearly unbearable. “We knew he was sad,” Carol said. “We just didn’t know that sadness can kill.”
Thus began their long hard road to understanding, to the extent any of us can ever truly understand an act of suicide. There are, of course, well-known indicia of danger: isolation, unusual irritability, lack of basic self-care (eating, sleeping, grooming); giving away possessions; talking about being a burden; a preoccupation with death; and deep negativity. These are manifest signs, visible if you’re aware of them and watch carefully for their existence. But they’re not always enough: You also need to know the invisible signs, the ones most people would never think to look for.
What I’ve learned from the Grahams’ story and my own experience is that the risk of suicide is often at its highest when you least expect it: in quiet, in recovery, in calm. There’s a preternatural peace that can precede the act—like any life-changing decision, it’s a relief to have finally made it. I personally know that when you’re seriously intent on killing yourself, you keep that ideation secret. That was the conclusion of a recent Harvard study: “The paradox is that the people who are most intent on committing suicide know that they have to keep their plans to themselves if they are to carry out the act. Thus, the people most in need of help may be the toughest to save,” said Dr. Michael Miller, assistant professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School.
So I encourage us to reorient our thinking, from the seen to the unseen. In addition to the danger signals we already know about, we need to watch for new warning signs, like these: a desperate person suddenly goes silent and stops talking about his pain; he appears to look better; he even seems to feel better—too quickly and too thoroughly, as if his depression had never happened. This is particularly true with bipolar disorder. I’ve found I’m at my greatest risk when a new medication starts to kick in. Ironically, I emerge from the paralysis of deep despondency with renewed energy to plan and to act, which means I’m capable of doing something overtly self-destructive. This is when my loved ones need to be watching me most closely.
Onerous? Maybe. But what’s a life worth?
There are no happy endings in suicide; it’s the antithesis of a fairy tale. But for the Grahams, there is newfound purpose and a mission. Amazingly, they have transmuted their tragedy by becoming fierce advocates for suicide prevention. They are committed to educating others, especially the military establishment.* Because of their dedication, courage, and steadfast refusal to surrender to their grief, Kevin’s death has not been meaningless. It has been the start of an avid campaign for awareness.
Despite their tragedy, the Grahams continue to live with hope for the future. Their only surviving child, Melanie, has joined the new family tradition of healing, as a registered nurse. She, too, has had to claw her way back from despair after Kevin’s death; but she is a source of great light and comfort, not least because she has presented Mark and Carol with two adored grandchildren in the last two years.
So the Grahams have survived, but they are well aware that the risk of suicide remains unchecked and all too often overlooked. As they told me, “There are so many Kevins out there.” Yes, and they all bear watching—not just when they’re obviously in trouble, but in the quiet times, too.
* One of the Grahams’ projects, Vets4Warriors.com, is a unique 24/7 resource which provides peer support for vets and/or family members. You can reach it online or at 1-855-838-8255.
