REACHING OUT AFTER SPATE OF TEEN SUICIDES

GLOBE WEST 1 NEEDHAM

Parents liken the experience to going down a rabbit hole: A bottomless pit of self-questioning and self-blame that follows a child's suicide. "How did we let this happen? Was it something we failed to do?"

Richard Gatto has been asking himself those questions for 18 months, since that Tuesday before Thanksgiving when two Needham police officers stepped into his office in the town center to tell him that his youngest son, Gregory, had killed himself in his dormitory at Hofstra University. He was 19.

Gatto talked about Gregory in the hope that others in despair will reach out for help, that they realize how much their lives mean to those they would leave behind.

He did so as Needham grappled with its fourth teen suicide in two years.

Last Thursday night, parents, students, and religious leaders held a vigil in honor of a 17-year-old high school student.

Psychologists and suicide prevention organizations will rattle off the warning signs: withdrawing from friends and family, increased use of drugs and alcohol, dramatic mood changes, changes in sleep habits.

But, said Gatto, "the bullet points don't quite do it. ... We didn't see it coming." In high school, Gregory Gatto volunteered for the home-building effort Habitat for Humanity. He played basketball and co-captained the football team. In 2004, he started at Hofstra University on Long Island with hopes for trying out for the football team in spring. He kept in regular touch with his family during his first semester, coming home in October to see the Red Sox beat the Yankees in the playoffs.

Nothing, his father said, prepared the family for what happened Thanksgiving week. At first, Gatto experienced "total shock." "Then there's feeling his loss and absence and trying to get through the days," he said. "Then you get analytical. How did we not know it?"

Gatto and his wife, Claudia, joined a support group with four other families who had lost loved ones to suicide. They started out meeting weekly; now they still get together every other week. "It's a way to share stories with people who understand how you feel, and to learn to forgive yourself," Gatto said. The challenge is to live in the present, he said. "You tend to replay moments."

Above his desk at the Gatto Agency, a real estate and insurance firm, is a collage of family photos. Among the pictures is one of Gregory, a handsome teenager with high cheekbones, lightly tanned skin, and sparkling eyes. "He could light up a room with a smile. He didn't tend to get real serious," his father said. Gatto said he likes to keep reminders of his son - trophies and photos - with him throughout the day. But he realizes the danger of getting stuck in memories. "I still have to earn a living," he said. "Part of honoring Greg is getting back to working on things we really value and believe in."

A Town Meeting member and a commissioner on the Needham Housing Authority, Gatto has a passion for helping people own their own houses. His family has traveled to Central America to volunteer for Habitat for Humanity. The Gattos's other sons, ages 22, 25, and 28, live in the area. "We take turns picking each other up," he said. "My three sons pretty much sustained my wife and me in the beginning."

Baffled friends Gregory's friends and others in town also helped them get through the past year. And, after last week's death, the community again came together. Scores of teens and their parents attended Thursday's vigil at Temple Beth Shalom. It was hosted by the Needham Youth Commission, which held separate discussions with teens and parents. In a room of more than 50 teenagers, tears mixed with talk.

"I feel like we're back to square one," said Rachel Presskreischer, a high school senior who was close friends with a student who killed herself in October. "We only talk about it when it happens," said another student. "By December, it was gone," she said of the group discussions about the suicide. A student at Pollard Middle School was upset that her teachers kept quiet about last week's death. "They didn't tell us about it. We're getting close to high school," she said.

The teens asked two youth counselors why people choose to end their lives. "Is it chemical?" a girl asked. Presskreischer, whose parents are psychologists, told her classmates, "My dad explained it to me as you're in such a hole that you can't even see around it." She recalled how she felt last fall as she watched her friend slip in and out of depression. On good days, her friend was witty, "loud," eager to say what was on her mind. On bad days, she avoided phone calls. She lost interest in activities and drifted from one group of friends to another.

In a phone interview, Presskreischer, 18, said her friend often tried to conceal her depression. "She would make it seem like we were helping her," she said. "She didn't want people to know how bad she was feeling." Presskreischer said that despite her parents' best efforts to ease her mind, she still thinks to herself, "Even though I tried so hard, I still failed." She said she tries to hold onto the good memories, like the time "we kidnapped her" from a New Year's party and ended up at a 7-Eleven posing for photos with members of a popular college band.

At the vigil, many of the students wanted to know what Needham plans to do to prevent future suicides. A challenge to the town Youth Commission director Jon Mattleman said he is forming a task force of parents, students, and teachers to educate youths about suicide and risky behavior.

Mattleman, who is 49, has directed the commission for a decade. He acknowledged that after the latest suicide, he's been hearing questions like "Why can't you stop this? Why isn't the Youth Commission doing more?" Though he said he didn't work with the teenager who most recently killed himself, Mattleman said he finds the pattern disturbing. "In some ways this is demoralizing," he said. He said that in a minority of cases youngsters are so mired in depression that they can't be saved, no matter how strong the support system of after-school programs, counseling, family vigilance, and hospital care.

When this happens, Mattleman said, "I feel guilty. I feel, whatever I've done, could we have done more?" What keeps him going, he said, is that in most cases, the support system helps.

Some teens at the vigil expressed resentment that adults seem to brush off their problems by hiring counselors. Vikki Clair, a Youth Commission clinician who led the teen discussion, summed up their feelings: "Sometimes people say, well, call in a counselor and it will get better. You're saying, `It's not working."'

"Adults are too casual with telling us what to do," said Rose Siersdale. Another girl said, "Adults are scared that kids are going to go off on the wrong track." "I think kids are, too," Clair said quietly.

Mattleman said that parents often ask him at what point they should intervene in their children's lives. "Even though kids are pushing you away, kids want you to save them," he said he tells parents. He said parents have to let their kids approach them when they feel like it, even if that may be at an inconvenient time like late at night.

Mattleman suggested that parents who sense a problem should consider dropping their kids an e-mail, inviting them to talk whenever they're ready. He said the note could be as simple as "I know you're going through a rough time. I'm here if you need to talk." But, he added, "You can't inundate kids with `I love you, let's talk. I love you, let's talk."'

Addressing the vigil, Needham High principal Paul Richards said: "The kids are saying there's something wrong with Needham." Richards cautioned against putting the blame on drugs, the pressure of schoolwork, or high expectations at home. "Let's not rush to put a simple answer on this issue," he said.