Blackbird

By Betsy Thibaut Stephenson

Copyright 2025

Review by Kim McCollam

Let me start with the simple fact that I did not want to read this book.  

The subjects of suicide, depression, loss, and grief are gut wrenching.

It’s important, though, to read in order to more fully understand, to turn thoughts over and question them, to be equipped to have hard conversations, and to know how to better support anyone you love who wages war with depression or is experiencing deep grief.  

Everyone should read this book!

And everyone should heed Betsy’s words, “Y’all. Its Ok to say the word suicide. Discussing it openly chips away at its mystery and secrets, which just might save a life.”  

I could guess at the emotional toll that reading Blackbird would take on me, but this author, while being brutally honest, vulnerable and open, wisely crafted her story as a stream of consciousness in the form of brief snippets and with a pace that provided and encouraged natural stopping points to step back and absorb the important material without feeling overwhelmed. Betsy has given us all a gift by making her walk in grief so assessable.

Betsy lost her 22-year-old son, Charlie, to suicide. Charlie was a rising senior at TCU and took his life in his off-campus home’s bedroom, with the door closed. Close conversations with friends the day before were deep and meaningful, with Charlie offering great advice and support to a friend struggling with anxiety. He had booked tee times, purchased a plane ticket for a fun trip, talked by phone with family members during the week, and submitted his academic schedule for the upcoming semester. His last text to his mother was “I’m doing awesome! Love You. Good Night.”

Layered underneath this happy facade, though, was diagnosed depression. Depression changes thought patterns and leads to intense emotional and psychological pain, often described as unbearable. Sufferers may feel hopeless, helpless, and worthless, seeing suicide as the only way to end their suffering with the disease itself making it difficult to envision alternatives to their current distress.

Though the book focuses on Betsy’s story- the unraveling of the life she knew, the various coping mechanisms she reached for, the ways her “Charlie’s Angels” (friends and strangers at her side) helped her put one foot in front of the other, and her growth towards acceptance, one also finds that the struggles she’s experienced give way to hope and suggestions for others. While there are no magic solutions, prevention, intervention and demystification are all critical in her eyes. In her “Letter to Parents Like Me” she shares-

• Don’t be afraid of uncomfortable conversations. Talking about mood and outlook are muscles one must exercise and help your child exercise. Normalizing these types of conversations builds stamina for the hard times.
• Remember that depression is sneaky. When someone you love is at risk, you must stay on top of it, even when they say they feel better.
• Remove even the smallest obstacles to receiving care. Don’t hesitate to take the reins and actively guide a depressed person toward treatment. The process of getting help can create a negative feedback loop that pushes a sick person lower. They need your help to get help.



In addition to shedding tears over her words, smiles formed at the corners of my lips at many remembrances and ways that Charlie lives on inside of this family who loved him so dearly. My lasting picture of this boy is one that was described of him on his campus with a Gingko leaf held in front of his smiling face. This picture was shared with the family after his death and after they had planted a tree over a bench at his school as a memorial to Charlie. The tree they had selected was a Gingko.  

I finished Blackbird with a heavier heart, but also with clearer eyes. This book is not only a story of loss; it is a plea for awareness, conversation, and courage. It reminds us that depression often hides in plain sight and that speaking openly—asking hard questions and listening without fear—can save lives. Blackbird gives grief a voice and, in doing so, gives others permission to speak. Stephenson’s story is a powerful reminder that love does not end with loss, and that saying the word suicide, out loud and without fear, may be one of the most loving acts we can offer.