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On November 22, communities across Canada and around the world will mark International Day for People Impacted by Suicide Loss: a day dedicated to honouring the lives of those lost and the loved ones who continue to carry their memory forward. It’s also a day for connection, reflection and hope.
This year, CASP is privileged to share the story of Sara Krynitzki, who lost her father to suicide in 1987 when she was just eight years old. Sara’s story, told in her own voice, speaks not only to the pain of early childhood loss, but also to the strength, healing and purpose she has discovered across the decades that followed.
A Childhood Shaped by Silence
Growing up in the late 1980s in Scarborough, Ontario, Sara experienced what many children touched by suicide loss still feel today: silence. Conversations about mental health, trauma or suicide were rare –especially in families dealing with their own grief.
“I was eight when my father died,” says Sara noting that her dad was a Toronto police officer who served with pride and took his job very seriously. “But I didn’t actually learn about how my father passed away until I was 15. Back then, suicide was so taboo that my mother just wasn’t able to talk about it.”
Those seven years, between experiencing the loss of my father and learning the truth about the nature of his death, created what Sara describes as a “second grief.” Learning as a teenager that her father had died by suicide meant reliving the loss all over again, alone and without formal supports.
“There were no mental health supports made available to me. I was really left to sit with this extraordinarily traumatic information on my own,” she says.
Finding Support in Unexpected Places
Despite the absence of formal services, Sara found care and connection through her chosen family: a close friend and her family, who embraced her throughout her teenage years.
“I became very close with my girlfriend and her family. They were warm, supportive and they knew about the circumstances surrounding my father’s death,” says Sara. “I don’t recall long conversations about it, but I remember feeling cared for and that helped with the healing process.”
The sense of belonging Sara felt through the care of her girlfriend’s family helped counterbalance the silence she felt at home where reminders of her father faded quickly. “We almost deleted his presence from our life. There were no photos. We never talked about him,” she recalls. “I had to find connection to him in other ways.”
“Looking back, I know everyone in my life was doing their best in their own ways and the support I found outside my home simply added another layer of care,” says Sara. Sometimes support shows up in unexpected places and that doesn’t diminish the efforts of those closest to us—it simply reflects the many ways people navigate grief.”
Rewriting the Story Through Parenthood
As Sara grew older, attended university, built a successful career in the non-profit sector and started her own family, she’s developed a clearer understanding for the complexities and stigma that continue to characterize many conversations about mental health, and specifically suicide. She now approaches conversations with her own children with openness and age-appropriate honesty; something she longed for in her youth.
“My kids know about my father,” says Sara, who, with her husband of many years, is raising two teenage sons and a grade school daughter in Toronto’s west end. “I don’t go into detail, but I tell them he had a sickness in his brain. Being honest in an age-appropriate way is important. Dialogue is important.”
Sara’s approach reflects one of the core truths of modern bereavement support: while children grieve differently than adults, like adults, they need to know the truth about the nature of the death, delivered with care and guided by trusted resources. Sara’s commitment to transparency marks a generational shift: one rooted in hope, not fear.
Keeping His Memory Alive
A powerful theme in Sara’s story is the importance of continuing to speak about the person who died – not merely about their death, but their life.
“Someone once told me I didn’t have a father anymore. But I do. He’s not living, but he lives within me. Continuing to talk about my father matters.”
As an adult, Sara has become more comfortable speaking openly about her father’s death. Yet she still notices how difficult it is for others to engage with suicide loss. “I made a very personal post on social media last year about my father, and I got so little traction,” she says. “I wasn’t upset, just struck by how the stigma is still there. It’s still hard for people to engage on this topic.”
But rather than discouraging her, Sara’s personal experience cemented her motivation to continue normalizing conversations around suicide with the hope that by sharing her own story, she can help others feel less alone.
A Turning Point: Honouring a Father’s Service
Sara’s father was a Toronto police officer, devoted to serving his community, working night shifts and carrying responsibilities few people around him understood. Recently, Sara learned of a new Toronto Police Service initiative, Because of the Line of Duty, that recognizes officers who died due to trauma-related mental health struggles.
“For me, discovering this program was a turning point in my grieving,” says Sara. “It felt like a way to acknowledge my father’s service. I’m thinking about adding his name to the memorial wall.”
For Sara, discovering this program is both a symbolic and substantive step toward her continued healing nearly 40 years after her father’s death. The program provides a formal opportunity for Sara to recognize her father’s efforts, but it also represents how far society has come in understanding mental illness and suicide.
Choosing Hope…Every Day
Today, Sara channels her energy into creating the supportive environment she once needed. She emphasizes compassion, connection and honest conversations within her family and supports organizations advancing mental health and suicide prevention.
Sara encourages others to show up for people grieving suicide. And she remains committed to ensuring that her father’s story – and her own story – are told with both dignity and safety in mind.
“There’s no one right way to live with this kind of loss,” she says. “But talking about it helps. It helps break down stigma. And it helps people know they’re not alone.”
On this International Day for People Impacted by Suicide Loss, Sara’s story reminds us that even after profound tragedy, there can be light, connection and new beginnings. Her journey is one of resilience, and above all, of hope.
Andrew Perez is the Executive Director of the Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention (CASP).
If you or someone you care about needs support, please call or text 9-8-8; a safe space to talk anytime.
To explore resources and supports available for people and families impacted by suicide loss, visit CASP’s IDPISL Resource List.
Sara’s Story on International Day for People Impacted by Suicide Loss
Photo courtesy of Sara Krynitzki
By Andrew Perez
On November 22, communities across Canada and around the world will mark International Day for People Impacted by Suicide Loss: a day dedicated to honouring the lives of those lost and the loved ones who continue to carry their memory forward. It’s also a day for connection, reflection and hope.
This year, CASP is privileged to share the story of Sara Krynitzki, who lost her father to suicide in 1987 when she was just eight years old. Sara’s story, told in her own voice, speaks not only to the pain of early childhood loss, but also to the strength, healing and purpose she has discovered across the decades that followed.
A Childhood Shaped by Silence
Growing up in the late 1980s in Scarborough, Ontario, Sara experienced what many children touched by suicide loss still feel today: silence. Conversations about mental health, trauma or suicide were rare –especially in families dealing with their own grief.
“I was eight when my father died,” says Sara noting that her dad was a Toronto police officer who served with pride and took his job very seriously. “But I didn’t actually learn about how my father passed away until I was 15. Back then, suicide was so taboo that my mother just wasn’t able to talk about it.”
Those seven years, between experiencing the loss of my father and learning the truth about the nature of his death, created what Sara describes as a “second grief.” Learning as a teenager that her father had died by suicide meant reliving the loss all over again, alone and without formal supports.
“There were no mental health supports made available to me. I was really left to sit with this extraordinarily traumatic information on my own,” she says.
Finding Support in Unexpected Places
Despite the absence of formal services, Sara found care and connection through her chosen family: a close friend and her family, who embraced her throughout her teenage years.
“I became very close with my girlfriend and her family. They were warm, supportive and they knew about the circumstances surrounding my father’s death,” says Sara. “I don’t recall long conversations about it, but I remember feeling cared for and that helped with the healing process.”
The sense of belonging Sara felt through the care of her girlfriend’s family helped counterbalance the silence she felt at home where reminders of her father faded quickly. “We almost deleted his presence from our life. There were no photos. We never talked about him,” she recalls. “I had to find connection to him in other ways.”
“Looking back, I know everyone in my life was doing their best in their own ways and the support I found outside my home simply added another layer of care,” says Sara. Sometimes support shows up in unexpected places and that doesn’t diminish the efforts of those closest to us—it simply reflects the many ways people navigate grief.”
Rewriting the Story Through Parenthood
As Sara grew older, attended university, built a successful career in the non-profit sector and started her own family, she’s developed a clearer understanding for the complexities and stigma that continue to characterize many conversations about mental health, and specifically suicide. She now approaches conversations with her own children with openness and age-appropriate honesty; something she longed for in her youth.
“My kids know about my father,” says Sara, who, with her husband of many years, is raising two teenage sons and a grade school daughter in Toronto’s west end. “I don’t go into detail, but I tell them he had a sickness in his brain. Being honest in an age-appropriate way is important. Dialogue is important.”
Sara’s approach reflects one of the core truths of modern bereavement support: while children grieve differently than adults, like adults, they need to know the truth about the nature of the death, delivered with care and guided by trusted resources. Sara’s commitment to transparency marks a generational shift: one rooted in hope, not fear.
Keeping His Memory Alive
A powerful theme in Sara’s story is the importance of continuing to speak about the person who died – not merely about their death, but their life.
“Someone once told me I didn’t have a father anymore. But I do. He’s not living, but he lives within me. Continuing to talk about my father matters.”
As an adult, Sara has become more comfortable speaking openly about her father’s death. Yet she still notices how difficult it is for others to engage with suicide loss. “I made a very personal post on social media last year about my father, and I got so little traction,” she says. “I wasn’t upset, just struck by how the stigma is still there. It’s still hard for people to engage on this topic.”
But rather than discouraging her, Sara’s personal experience cemented her motivation to continue normalizing conversations around suicide with the hope that by sharing her own story, she can help others feel less alone.
A Turning Point: Honouring a Father’s Service
Sara’s father was a Toronto police officer, devoted to serving his community, working night shifts and carrying responsibilities few people around him understood. Recently, Sara learned of a new Toronto Police Service initiative, Because of the Line of Duty, that recognizes officers who died due to trauma-related mental health struggles.
“For me, discovering this program was a turning point in my grieving,” says Sara. “It felt like a way to acknowledge my father’s service. I’m thinking about adding his name to the memorial wall.”
For Sara, discovering this program is both a symbolic and substantive step toward her continued healing nearly 40 years after her father’s death. The program provides a formal opportunity for Sara to recognize her father’s efforts, but it also represents how far society has come in understanding mental illness and suicide.
Choosing Hope…Every Day
Today, Sara channels her energy into creating the supportive environment she once needed. She emphasizes compassion, connection and honest conversations within her family and supports organizations advancing mental health and suicide prevention.
Sara encourages others to show up for people grieving suicide. And she remains committed to ensuring that her father’s story – and her own story – are told with both dignity and safety in mind.
“There’s no one right way to live with this kind of loss,” she says. “But talking about it helps. It helps break down stigma. And it helps people know they’re not alone.”
On this International Day for People Impacted by Suicide Loss, Sara’s story reminds us that even after profound tragedy, there can be light, connection and new beginnings. Her journey is one of resilience, and above all, of hope.
Andrew Perez is the Executive Director of the Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention (CASP).
If you or someone you care about needs support, please call or text 9-8-8; a safe space to talk anytime.
To explore resources and supports available for people and families impacted by suicide loss, visit CASP’s IDPISL Resource List.
To learn more about how to safely share stories about suicide, visit the Centre for Suicide Prevention’s Guidelines for Sharing Experiences with Suicide – Canadian Association For Suicide Prevention.
Related Information
Announcing the Launch of our Suicide Bereavement Support Group Facilitators Network
Resources
CASP’S 2025 International Day for People Impacted by Suicide Loss Event
Resources: International Day for People Impacted by Suicide Loss