What do you do when your beautiful, outgoing, loving daughter ends her life? If you were my husband, Shalom Hammer, you would say: 'I have to do something.' I don't want anyone else to go through what we've gone through.
Five and a half years ago, our 18-year-old daughter ended her life. She had been suffering, silently and painfully, after a traumatic experience she endured at 16. We only learned about it a year later. During that year, her bubbly, loud personality began to fade. What had been an energetic, extroverted, compassionate, and deeply empathetic girl became angry and withdrawn. She stopped participating in her youth group and spent most of her time in her room.
We thought it was typical teenage behavior. It wasn't. When we finally found out about her trauma, thanks to a teacher who gently encouraged Gila to share, everything suddenly made sense. It wasn't too late, but without real guidance, support, and education, we didn't know how to give her the help she truly needed. We were suddenly thrust into a complex world of bureaucracy, lengthy waitlists, and uncertainty.
Over the 18 months that followed, Gila was prescribed medication, but she never received focused trauma therapy. She was turned away from hospitals when she asked for help. She sat on waitlists, stalled by bureaucracy, and was twice sent home from the ER after swallowing pills, clear cries for help that were never truly answered. One doctor told me: "Our job in the ER is to make sure someone doesn't die. She's alive. Take her home and get her help."
Eventually, she was admitted to an institution, where she had three very positive weeks. After discharge, Gila was sent home with nothing in place. No framework. No meaningful routine. No social connection. Her friends were moving on to the army, Sherut Leumi, and yeshiva. She was stuck. The loneliness and feelings of uselessness were crushing. She spent four long months at home, waiting for approval after approval. And we, her parents, had no idea where to turn.
A few months after her death, my husband said, "Enough." After taking a Mental Health First Aid course and learning about suicidal ideation, he was devastated. "Gila had been suicidal," he realized. Not every day, but in waves, the way suicidal thoughts often come. We had said the wrong things. Offered the wrong responses. Not because we didn't care, but because we didn't know what the right responses were.
Looking back, she showed every sign of suicidal ideation. But we didn't know what those signs were. No one sat down with us, or with her, to talk directly about suicide. Even the psychiatrist who saw her the day she died didn't conduct a full suicide risk assessment, a conversation that could have made all the difference.
So he started speaking out. He began telling our story. Not for sympathy but rather for prevention. To raise awareness. To remove stigma. And to help make sure no one else lives with the anguish and grief we now carry. From this pain, we created Gila's Way based on the core values Gila exemplified in her life. Deep compassion, empathy, and making others feel seen by lending a helping hand. Gila's Way is based on the lessons we learned far too late and on Gila's own values, her strength, and the compassion she showed others even while she was suffering.
We educate and apply real, practical tools for suicide prevention. We introduced the CAMS (Collaborative Assessment and Management of Suicidality) program to Israel. A gold-standard model from the US that helps therapists directly address suicidal thoughts while avoiding hospitalization, and we're training clinicians across the country.
We offer free consultations for families who are dealing with someone in crisis to help advise them on navigating their loved one to safety and recovery. This past year alone, we offered 190 such consultations.
We've launched over 20 "Spread Joy Days" on college campuses, where students learn how to check in with friends, recognize warning signs, and talk about mental health. We visit schools, pre-army academies, parent groups, and teachers. We teach how to listen. How to ask. How to act.
And we're working, slowly but persistently, to open doors inside the IDF. The army is particularly challenging. Most soldiers are young adults, and aside from being a very vulnerable age, they encounter a lot of pressure and various experiences that can be triggering and traumatizing. In a moment of despair, a soldier's access to weapons can be fatal.
Recently, there have been several suicides in the army. After two of them, my husband received calls from soldiers in the unit and from concerned parents. In both cases, it became clear that soldiers weren't given the space or support to talk about what had happened. From the conversations had, it's obvious that their commanders receive very little training in suicide awareness and prevention. That kind of training needs to be built into the military curriculum. Soldiers themselves need to know how to check in on one another, recognize warning signs, and act when something feels off.
The army is a hard institution to break into. But we must. Because every life matters, whether in uniform or not. This week alone, Gila's Way is addressing soldiers in the north, and in the south.
Suicide prevention shouldn't be a niche topic reserved for professionals. It needs to be a national conversation, something every person in this country learns about. We can't be afraid to talk about it. We can't keep avoiding the word "suicide" as if silence will protect us. It won't. While the army may publicly acknowledge some suicides, many go unreported or are only briefly mentioned, and few of us know how many lives have truly been lost to suicide this year, in or out of uniform. Every one of those lives mattered. And so does our responsibility to learn, speak up, and act before it's too late. There is still a dangerous stigma around mental health and suicide. Too many people still say, "This could never happen to us." But it can. And it does; that was once us.
In a moment of despair, suicidal thoughts can translate into action. Without the correct tools, the right support, and awareness, lives are lost. For these reasons, as we approach September 10, International Suicide Prevention Day, Gila's Way is hosting "Suicide Revealed" in Jerusalem, Bet Shemesh, and Ranana. Suicide Revealed screens a film called "Levi" about a young man in the Jewish community of Manchester, UK, who is plagued by suicidal thoughts. Following the film, a panel discussion will take place on identifying suicidal signs, response, and treatment.
Gila's Way was established because no one should be turned away when they ask for help. Because no parent should be left in the dark. Because suicide can be prevented, when and if spoken about correctly. Let's stop whispering about suicide and let's start learning how to prevent it, because education and awareness can save a life.
