Losing a parent is hard; losing a parent to suicide can feel like grief plus shock plus a lifelong question you can’t stop turning over. Nicole Jones-Vogel talks about her father’s death by suicide and how the aftermath reshaped her life, from being “next of kin” at 25 to learning what suicide loss really does to a family system. The conversation is rooted in mental health, addiction, and stigma, but it keeps returning to a practical theme: healing often starts when we stop hiding. Nicole’s word for the year is “amplify,” and it becomes a lens for what many survivors eventually want, not attention, but a bigger, safer space for honest talk about suicide prevention and support.
Thanks to Nicole Jones-Vogel for the photos
Nicole traces the story back to childhood, where unpredictability and secrecy shaped how she understood safety. She describes being pulled into an elementary school group for kids impacted by a parent’s substance use, an early form of education that helped her name what was happening and, crucially, reminded her it wasn’t her fault. She also shares memories that hint at undiagnosed bipolar disorder: bursts of energy followed by long stretches of deep depression, plus the complicated reality that substance use can be a form of self-medication. For listeners, the takeaway is both compassionate and clarifying: family members can love someone deeply and still live with chronic stress, hypervigilance, and the quiet habit of covering up the truth to protect the household.
When suicide attempts or “rehearsals” enter the picture, the emotional burden changes again. Nicole describes days of not knowing where her dad was, knowing he had a weapon, and living on edge while hoping treatment would finally work. After his death, she had to make decisions no 25-year-old expects, and she names the specific traumas families face, from identification of a body to the gut punch of reading a final note. Suicide bereavement is often marked by stigma and isolation, and many survivors carry guilt, even when they couldn’t have controlled the outcome. Nicole highlights a key suicide prevention myth: talking about suicide does not cause suicide. Avoiding the topic, on the other hand, can leave people alone with their plan.
A turning point comes through community. Nicole attends a long-term suicide loss summit and discovers how normal it is for grief to remain vivid for decades. She describes the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) rituals and support spaces that make loss visible, like bead ceremonies and groups for people who lost a parent. The episode also gets concrete about what to do when someone seems at risk: slow down, notice the warning signs, and ask direct questions like “Are you having suicidal thoughts?” and “Do you have a plan?” Nicole connects this to men’s mental health and the cultural pressure to stay productive, push feelings down, and treat rest like weakness, even though men make up the majority of suicide deaths. 
Nicole’s advocacy becomes tangible through creativity. She makes polymer clay semicolon jewelry as a fundraiser connected to AFSP Out of the Darkness Walks. The semicolon is a widely recognized symbol in suicide prevention: a sentence could end, but the author chooses to continue. That metaphor matters because it gives people a quiet way to signal hope, solidarity, and lived experience. The larger message is simple and powerful for anyone searching for grief support or mental health resources: don’t do it alone, don’t be afraid of direct language, and look for communities, walks, therapy, and tools that help you keep going, one steady choice at a time.
To learn more about Nicole and her advocacy work please visit www.finchandfernstudio.com.
