Ted Lasso, I Feel Your Pain

Ted Lasso Season 4, Episode 10 had Ted telling his son Henry how his grandfather died. Spoiler Alert: It was by suicide. The director, Matt Lipsey, handled it very skillfully with the camera panning out and the audience wondering how he said it, but we knew he said it. Grandpa died by suicide.

This scene brought back so many memories for me, but the one that stood out the most was when I had to tell my two sons that the real reason they do not have two uncles. Like Ted Lasso’s fictional father, my brothers died by suicide. Mark died in 1983, and Matthew died in 1994. Not fiction but fact. Insert curse words here.

Nine months after Matthew died, my ex-wife and I welcomed our first son, Martin. Two years later we got a bonus boy, and we named him Brendan. Life was good again, but I dreaded the day I would have to tell these two young men about my brothers and their uncles.

I am a man of faith, some days better than others, and I fully trusted God with this one, which is weird because I rarely trust God 100% with anything. It’s my fault, not his. Part of having free will is thinking I can control everything, when in reality I control very little. But this one—I gave it fully to God and just kept telling myself that the day the boys need to be told about our family history of suicide will reveal itself.

As I watched my two boys grow up, even with my faith, this one question was nagging me. “When are you going to tell the boys about your brothers?” I wrestled with it for years, but I had time; they were far too young for a story like this for a long time, and I knew the day would come. I kept reminding myself that it will reveal itself.

Repeat after me—it will reveal itself.

You can repeat that phrase a million times, and it still won’t prepare you for the day, but I knew I had to be proactive before they saw a photo of my brothers or someone mentioned their names and they had no idea who they were. Finally the day arrived.

I was on the phone in my home office explaining what I do to someone and why I do it. I told them about my brothers and how my misery became my mission, and the call ended with them hiring me to come speak. I had spoken for a long time, and my throat was dry, so I stood up to get a drink. I turned towards the door, which should have been shut, but in a rush to grab the call, I left it open, and my youngest son was standing in the doorway. I have always worked from home, and my kids knew to wait until Daddy was off the phone to speak. Normally they would ask me for food or if they could go out and play, but this time Brendan asked me a question, and it gutted me.

Brendan asked, “Dad, is that true?” He had heard the entire story about my brothers. and how they died. Lo and behold, the truth had revealed itself. I wasn’t mad; I felt a form of relief. It was time to tell the story, so I sat him down and told him the truth in the gentlest way possible, and then I asked him not to tell his brother. He needed to hear it from me. It felt like when one of your kids finds out about Santa Claus and you ask them not to tell their siblings—but this was worse.

The second conversation went as well as could be expected, and the truth was out there; the truth shall set you free. The boys now knew about the two uncles they would never meet. Hurts to even type it. It was done, and there was a significant positive side effect. We now talked about mental health in the open. No more secrets.

In 2011 I did a walk to raise awareness, and the whole family attended. My past had fully caught up with me, and I was no longer hiding in shame. And it’s much nicer this way. Live your truth, and the truth will set you free.

I get you, Ted Lasso.

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