September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, a time typically dominated by immediate crisis response and public intervention campaigns, but a grassroots initiative in Morehead City, North Carolina, is turning the spotlight toward a critical, often overlooked demographic: the people left behind.
The Suicide Widows Project, a three-year postvention effort launched in August 2026, is working to uncover and address the systemic lack of long-term support for spouses and partners rebuilding their lives after a suicide loss.
The invisible network of grief
For many suicide loss survivors, the initial shock of the tragedy is only the beginning of a long, isolating journey. Finding others who truly understand that specific, multi-layered pain can feel nearly impossible.
"Even though there are hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of people widowed by suicide they can be really hard to find," said project founder and manager Leda Cunningham. "So, I started the Suicide Widows Project to help expand our understanding of what people widowed by suicide need, and the only way to do that is to ask them."
Cunningham, who lost her husband 12 years ago, remembers the overwhelming confusion of those early days—and the disconnect between well-meaning friends and the reality of trauma.
"In the immediate aftermath it was kind of a swirl of shock and emotions," Cunningham explains. "People often asked what they could do to help. Everyone wants to help, but they don't know, and I didn't know either."
A hidden public health concern
That gap in knowing how to help isn’t just a social hurdle—it is a critical public health concern. Research shows that suicide loss survivors face severe statistical risks themselves.
"People who are bereaved by suicide are themselves at an increased risk of then also dying by suicide, so those conversations really go hand in hand," notes Natalie O’Brien, a researcher with the UNC School of Medicine.
For O’Brien, the academic data mirrors her personal history. She lost her husband a decade ago, navigating her own trauma while trying to anchor her young family.
"At the time also my children were 6 and 17. I think sort of an additional complexity for me was trying to navigate how to help them," O’Brien said. "And that's really difficult when you don't know what you need, where to find it, and doing that also while you're grieving yourself and dealing with your own trauma. So, trying to sort of piece that together and help others while you need help, I think is complicated. In addition to just... the business of death in general."
The sheer scale of this ripple effect is massive. O'Brien points out that the trauma extends far past immediate households. "For every one suicide death, it's estimated that at least 135 people are impacted. That's a huge number of people."
Shattering the silence and stigma
Project participant Sarah Fangman said that the heavy societal stigma surrounding suicide often forces survivors to carry their grief in complete secrecy, compounding their isolation.
"Suicide grief is, like all grief, extraordinarily hard and it's more complicated in some ways because of the stigmas. As a result, people don't know how to approach someone who has lost someone to suicide because they don't know how to talk about it." Suicide Widows Project participant Sarah Fangman
Yet, when the silence is intentionally broken, survivors frequently discover a vast community hidden in plain sight.
"Something struck me when I lost my husband to suicide six years ago, and that was how many people came to me and quietly said, 'I too have lost someone to suicide,'" Fangman recalls. "I never knew it because everybody keeps that secret, and what I hope the Suicide Widows Project will do is help open those conversations up because we need to talk about it."
Fangman emphasizes that this type of loss leaves a permanent mark. "This type of loss has staying power, if you will. It really, it affects you and it becomes part of the fabric of your life in a way that's really, I think, unique."
Part of that staying power means finding ways to honor who their partners were, rather than reducing them to their final moments. "I am grateful when someone speaks about my late husband and acknowledges him," Fangman adds. "Because with a suicide death, I feel like so many people are afraid to talk about it and the person becomes the suicide. And our people were so much more than that, how they died."
Finding "safe spaces" in smaller communities
The Suicide Widows Project operates primarily through confidential, hour-long peer interviews conducted by fellow loss survivors. The goal is to collect qualitative data to influence systemic change, but Cunningham said the interviews themselves are proving to be therapeutic.
"Every single one of them has told me how much they appreciate the hour-long conversation," Cunningham said. "It's been really valuable. People have used words like cathartic, healing. Some of them have said, 'I didn't realize how much I needed to talk about it, even now, 10, 15 years later.'"
Finding that safe environment to open up can be incredibly difficult, particularly in smaller, close-knit regions. Participant Kristin Martin found her sanctuary at Momentum Yoga and Wellness in Morehead City. She initially went there for healing, and later purchased and continues to operate the business.
"I found such community and healing and acceptance there," Martin said. However, she notes that managing a business and raising two small children alone under the weight of such a loss remains a daily hurdle, especially without local infrastructures.
"I had also had two small kids at the time, so it has been a very difficult path and to find people that you can talk with that are safe space is really hard. And I think especially given the small area in which we're in, it made it even more difficult to be able to talk about it and to get the help that we needed. Every day is tough. Every day is different, but every day is a struggle when you have been a person that has gone through this." — Suicide Widows Project participant Kristin Martin
The need for local resources
In rural and coastal areas like Eastern North Carolina, specialized long-term mental health resources can be exceptionally scarce. O’Brien notes that local clinicians are eager to bridge the gap, but they need proper support.
"In eastern North Carolina, I know many mental health professionals and I know that if there were more training and more resources to support them getting the training, that they would do it," O’Brien said.
Ultimately, Cunningham wants the Suicide Widows Project to shift the public narrative away from simple victimhood, highlighting the profound resilience required to survive.
"I felt like a lot of the story being told around people who lost a loved one to suicide was almost about being a victim. This horrible thing did happen, and, yes, we are surviving it. And the amount of resilience, resourcefulness, grit that it takes to get up every day, to raise kids, to do your job, to be nice to other people, to not just curl up into a ball on your floor, although we do that too, is tremendous. And so this project isn't just about helping people heal, although it is that, it's also about helping people help others and find meaning in their life." — Leda Cunningham, Suicide Widows Project
How to get involved
The Suicide Widows Project is a registered 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization and is currently seeking 40 participants nationwide (of any gender) to take part in confidential peer-led research interviews. Participants must be at least two years past the loss of their spouse or life partner.
To sign up for the study, donate, or find more information, visit the organization's official website at suicidewidows.org.
If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. You can call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. It is free, confidential, and available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You can also chat online at 988lifeline.org.
