The Hoosier Farmer

Editor’s note: Names in this story have been changed to protect privacy. This story discusses suicide, grief, loss and uses choice words in a couple direct quotes. It may be triggering for some readers. Please read with caution.

Amy met John in a small-town bar. They were in their late 20s, living in different towns.

“We knew each other probably a year. Then I moved over here and we bought our farm,” she said looking back on their 17 years of marriage.

John lived in the town he grew up in. He always wanted to be a farmer like his grandfather.

“That's all he wanted to do, farm full time,” said Amy. “He started his own farming business. He farmed his grandpa's farm, which was almost 100 acres; but other than that, he pretty much just started with nothing. When we met, he rented all of his ground.”

John eventually owned 600 acres and rented another 900 acres of farmland in eastern Indiana.

“We had acquired other farms through the years, but he worked his ass off,” Amy shared, wiping away tears. “He took pride in what he did.”

Amy and John then had an opportunity to purchase land near his family’s homestead, land that he had farmed his whole life.

“When he purchased that farm, something just happened. I wasn't on board to buy it because I felt like we needed to pay down other mortgages. It was more of a sentimental thing for him. While we never fought about it, I made it clear I wasn't happy about it,” Amy said.

Life went back to normal soon afterwards, but then John began struggling with some of the financial decisions he had made.

“He was worried about what everybody thought. There were some people that had said some things, and I think he had heard some things. People were talking about him and he just snapped,” Amy said.

John talked with his close friends, their banker and even his pastor.

“He didn't ignore what he was dealing with,” Amy said. “They all assured him that everything was going to be fine.”

Despite these talks, John went to Amy and asked her to take him to the hospital due to the mental anguish he felt.

“It took a lot for him to come to me that day and ask for help because he was very prideful. There were a lot of things then that I wish I would have known now – the signs, the warnings, the what if’s, the help available for people,” she said. “He had friends that took their life. He had dealt with it personally in the years before, so he knew what it was like. He would always say, ‘I can’t believe somebody would do that.’”

John had been taking medications for different ailments around the time he purchased the family farm.

“I blame a lot of it on his medication, I do, because all the medication he was on all had side effects of suicidal thoughts,” Amy said. “(The hospital) kept him on a 24-hour hold. Let him go. Took him off medications he was on. Put him on new medications he'd never been on, which all those had suicidal thoughts as side effects… and within 48 hours, he took his life.”

THAT FATEFUL DAY  

“We had come up with a plan that morning before we talked to his parents. He was just worried that he had just made some bad decisions and he had it in his head that he’d let me down, his parents down and our babies down,” Amy said. “They were trying to get to the root of the problem just like I was, and we couldn’t get an answer to what he was really thinking.”

Amy had spent the entire day with John because he wanted to haul grain and she wouldn’t allow him to do it alone.

“He wasn’t back to himself, but we talked a lot and our conversations were good. Never would I have thought he would have done what he did. I could tell he still wasn't himself. Now that I look back, some of the things that he said to me that day make sense. He acted different, but not to where I was worried,” she said.

That evening, John was outside with their kids. He moved the tractor and the auger and loaded the semi again with grain.  

That night, John took his own life inside their home. Their children were asleep just a dozen feet down the hall. Due to his issues sleeping, Amy was downstairs until she was awakened in the middle of the night.

“I knew something was wrong as soon as I went upstairs because the bedroom door was shut but the light was still on,” she recalled. “I know he was sick or he wouldn’t have done that. It’s hard for me to think he would do that in a clear mind because he didn’t agree with that.”

Amy was the first to discover John in their bedroom and immediately got her kids out of the house before calling the authorities.

“I’m just glad my kids were safe that night. They were spared from stuff that they didn't need to know or see – they were protected that night,” she said.

THE AFTERMATH

“It's a year later and I still look for notes – but they’re not there. You want that closure, but you'll never get it. Unfortunately, it's just something I'm going to have to live with the rest of my life,” Amy said. “I would like my kids to have that, but they're never going to have it. Would that make a difference? I don't know.”

One year after the incident, Amy held an auction and was able to pay off all the bills with grain they had in storage.

“It's hard to understand. He just felt like he had let everybody down, and he hadn't let anybody down,” she said.

She’s also sold some of their land but kept 500 acres.

“I have a little boy that wants to do nothing but farm like his dad, so I'm doing my damnedest to make sure he can do that,” Amy said with tears coming down her face.

Amy said she grew up in the church, but John didn’t have as strong of a religious connection. The couple was in a rough spot in their marriage a handful of years ago and their church helped calm the seas.

“He wanted to go to church as a family and we really connected. I think going to church is what saved our marriage,” she said. “Every time I go now, I just cry.”

John had talked with his pastor about the issues facing him the week of his death.

“There was a problem before I knew there was a problem. He was dealing with things, and he went to our pastor first, and he went to one of his best friends before he confided in me. I could tell there was a problem, but he didn't want to burden me,” Amy said. “I knew he was struggling, but I'm just glad he was able to go to people. Not everybody has people. You know there's somebody out there right now dealing with the same thing.”

When Amy and John were at the hospital, Amy asked John, “If you have to stay in the hospital for a few days, who do I go to?” John shared the name of one of his best friends.

“That was a person that he had confided in, and he's pretty much been helping me since that fateful day – along with four of John’s other friends,” she said. “They hauled grain and harvested last year, planted and never charged me. This year, we're going to do things different, but last year, they pretty much did everything all on their own time and their own money.”

Amy said John’s friends have become family and the toll his death has taken on them is sadder than her loss.

“There's been a few times I've had to go to their house in the middle of the night and talk to them because they were in a bad spot. Everybody still says ‘why?’ Unfortunately, that's closure we're never going to get,” she said.

John handled the farm while Amy worked outside the home. Since his death, she’s now learning on the fly and making decisions for their farm.

“I've learned to watch the market, when to sell grain,” she said. “I'll be honest with you, if I didn't have the support that I had, I would have probably said, ‘I'm done,’ and sold everything, because I couldn't have done it all. Now, I live day by day. It’s not just making decisions about the farm, but it's making decisions about the kids. I have no family here in town. I’m thankful I have a job that will let me work around my kids’ schedules. I've had to rely on so many people this year and I was never one to ask for help. I learned to get over that real quick, but it’s still a struggle.”

ADVOCATE FOR AWARENESS

“I just wish I would have known,” Amy said. “I just feel like there's not enough awareness about it. There's not enough help. People should not be ashamed. That's one thing I've been very vocal about since day one.”

If Amy could share any advice to someone contemplating suicide, her response is just four words: “It’s not worth it.”

“We had people that I didn't even know, and they didn't even know John, that heard what happened. People that lived hours away got a hold of those helping us and offered to haul grain. People want to listen and to help,” said Amy. ”John wouldn't have asked you to borrow a gallon of milk, but he would have given you the shirt off of his back. That’s what’s so sad about this, at that moment why he didn't see or think that? Unfortunately, that will always haunt me. Why couldn't he see a better way out? Because if he needed help, people would have helped him.”

With the heartfelt outreach from the fellow farmers, Amy now fights the suicide stigma in her community.

“I've not been embarrassed or ashamed about it. It's the truth,” she said. “If anything, I want him to be proud of me for making people aware of it – because it's true, it's a real thing. It's affected his family, my kids, me, his friends. It's affected all of us – and it will the rest of our lives.”

Contact Editor

Robert Herrington

(317) 692-7871

RHerrington@infb.org