Anders family leaned on love after losing child to suicide

They described how they dealt with the loss of their daughter Samantha, who took her life at age 14.

They chose love when it would’ve been easier to choose anger.

They chose love when silence felt safer than speaking.

And six years later, they’re still choosing love — out loud, on purpose, in Sam’s name.

This September, during Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, the Anders family is once again sharing her story — not to reopen wounds, but to remind others that love, awareness and early intervention can save lives.

In the wake of unimaginable loss, the Anders continue to live by the words they spoke the day after their 14-year-old daughter, Samantha, died by suicide: choose love.

From planting butterfly bushes to adopting three sisters, the Anders family continues to let love lead them. Through grief, healing and even unexpected joy, Gregg and Joyce Anders and their children have never stopped sharing Sam’s story — and her light — with the world.

“We miss her every single day,” Joyce said.

Remembering Sam

Samantha “Sam” Nichole Anders was born on March 26, 2004.

From the start, she was bright, funny, and full of energy — a vibrant little girl who kept her family laughing.

Her parents remember her as kind, hilarious and wildly creative.

Sam loved fishing with her Barbie pole, confidently hooking her own worms.

She’d squeal with excitement catching fish nearly as big as she was.

She zipped around on her skateboard, explored the backyard with boundless energy and had a gentle way with animals. She was happiest running barefoot outside.

As she grew older, her creativity bloomed.

She picked up instruments like other kids picked up toys — from more traditional options such as bass guitar, drums, guitar and piano to others like ukulele and mandolin.

“You could hear her upstairs playing every night,” Joyce said. “She would watch YouTube videos and pick up an instrument and play and play and play.”

Sam led worship at church, wrote poems and raps for her parents, and filled their phones with silly selfies when no one was looking.

She made people laugh without trying, but most of the time she was.

“If we left our phone down for more than a minute, we’d pick it up and find dozens of funny-face selfies,” Joyce said. “She’d change the background to something ridiculous — it always made us laugh.”

Sam was especially close to her siblings, Victoria and Tyler. Her mom remembers hearing giggles from their shared bedrooms late into the night.

“They were always close,” Joyce said. “I loved hearing them laugh together upstairs.”

She and Tyler, her younger brother, shared a special bond.

They spent hours together — playing games, watching shows, riding bikes or just being silly.

“They really were best friends,” Joyce said. “She looked out for him, and he adored her.”

Sam’s heart was just as big as her imagination.

“She loved and cared deeply about people,” Joyce said. “She was the one that would go up to the people sitting by themselves and try to talk to them. She had a sensitive heart.”

She found comfort in nature and even more in family.

As a teenager, she found beauty in and appreciated the small things — flowers, butterflies, clouds.

She made a point to capture it all through her camera lens, but she struggled to see it in herself.

Struggles hid through smiles

In April 2018, just months before her death, Sam attempted to take her life by overdosing on cold medicine. Joyce came home from work to find her unresponsive and called 911. Sam was life flighted to the hospital.

From that moment on, the Anders family lived in a constant state of worry and prayer. They adjusted medications, tried new counselors, leaned on their faith and clung to hope.

“She was trying,” Joyce said. “Some days were better. We thought we were turning a corner.”

That summer brought moments of light. Joyce and Sam grew closer than ever — lounging by the pool, painting nails, doing each other’s hair.

“We would talk and dream of the future,” Joyce said. “Then she would always look at me and say, ‘I love you, Mum,’ in a British accent.”

She was Joyce’s coffee buddy, her giggle partner, her shadow.

As ninth grade approached, Sam asked to return to in-person school.

“We thought she was doing better,” Joyce said. Church friends agreed.

But her struggles had started years earlier. In middle school, longtime friends became distant — or cruel.

“She told us we were her only friends,” Joyce said. “It broke our hearts.”

She was bullied in school and online. Boys pressured her to send inappropriate photos. Teachers made comments in front of classmates that left her embarrassed and ashamed.

“She stopped being that bubbly, outgoing kid. She needed us to order her food at restaurants. Her anxiety was just consuming her,” Joyce said.

Despite counseling and support, her mental health continued to decline.

“Some days we felt like we kind of had our Sam back, other days we felt lost and completely hopeless,” Joyce said. “Our family, close friends tried to help and lifted us up in prayer. God was who we leaned on and continue to lean on.”

Before Victoria left for college, she and Sam had grown especially close. “She was very sad to see her ‘sissy’ leave,” Joyce said. Sam used the nickname just to annoy her.

“The girls would constantly talk in accents, especially a British one,” Joyce said. “Sam would joke that she would protect Victoria from any boys that would come along or if she would travel, she would be her bodyguard.”

Her bond with Tyler was strong, too. “Her and Tyler would wrestle a lot,” Joyce said. “I guess since Tyler didn’t have a brother, Sam was the replacement.”

In September, the family didn’t realize how badly she was still struggling.

“We thought she was doing better. We kept in close contact with the school and some people in other grades to keep an eye out for her,” Joyce said. “We were so relieved.”

On Sept. 30, 2018, they went to Olive Garden — Sam’s favorite — for dinner with friends. She smiled, laughed, and FaceTimed Victoria later that night. Joyce dyed her hair, and they watched TV together as a family.

Sam was still awake when everyone else went to bed.

The next morning, Joyce left for work like any other day.

“I saw that she had texted me during the night to see if I was up, but I didn’t hear my phone,” Joyce said. “I ran upstairs in a panic wondering if she was OK and she was sitting in front of her mirror doing her makeup. She convinced me she was fine and that everything was OK.”

That morning, Sam had her coffee with half-and-half and white sugar — and told her family she was fine.

By that afternoon, she was gone.

Legacy of love

Sam didn’t text her mom after school like she usually did, and Joyce remembers feeling uneasy.

Minutes turned to hours, and then came the call from her husband that brought her to her knees.

“He said, ‘Hurry home, something’s wrong with Sam,’” she said.

Joyce raced back, panic already rising.

Police were at the house. Sam was missing. Her younger brother hadn’t seen her. Neighbors and officers searched the woods behind their home.

Gregg joined the search — and he found her.

When he told his wife, Joyce collapsed.

Her daughter — their bright, funny, fiercely loved Sam — was gone.

“It’s something no parent should ever have to experience,” Joyce said. “Your world just stops.”

The community rallied around them. Friends, family, neighbors, church members — all came to support them.

Their home was filled with people and prayer.

Through the heartbreak, the Anders made a choice: they would not let anger consume them.

Instead, they chose love. In the months after Sam’s death, the Anders family launched two funds in her honor: Sam’s Symphony of Love, a scholarship for students in the arts, and the Samantha Anders Legacy Fund, which supports anti-bullying efforts.

They began wearing and sharing messages of #Sammistrong and #ChooseLove, speaking openly about Sam’s struggles and the importance of mental health awareness.

“We decided to forgive,” Joyce said. “Even the kids who bullied her. We didn’t want bitterness to take root.”

They’ve since participated in suicide prevention walks, hosted awareness events and shared Sam’s story in schools and churches.

Love made room

In 2021, nearly three years after Sam’s death, the Anders family opened their hearts and home again — this time to three sisters in foster care.

Joyce had dreamed of adopting before Sam passed, and Sam had been thrilled at the idea of having a younger sibling.

“She was so excited at the thought of getting a little sister,” Joyce said. “She was disappointed when we had to step away from that process.”

Then, in a moment Joyce describes as God’s timing, the family was asked if they’d consider welcoming three girls: Breanna, Kayla and Annabella.

The two oldest moved in on March 27 — the day after what would have been Sam’s 16th birthday.

A few weeks later, their little sister joined them.

By the time their adoption was finalized, the girls had chosen new first names — Madison, Addi and Annie — and Joyce wore a necklace with Sam’s thumbprint to court. Annie was given Nichole as her middle name, in Sam’s honor.

Joyce never pictured herself with a big family. She thought her diaper bag days were over when Tyler was little — and swore she’d never drive a minivan. But today, with three more little ones in the house, she smiles and says her heart has never been more full.

They moved to Alliance, Ohio, where Gregg now works at Model Uniforms and continues his outreach ministry. Joyce is self-employed and keeps up with the swirl of school drop-offs, sports and schedules.

Victoria, now married to Caleb Troyer, works at Akron Children’s Hospital and is pursuing her master’s in applied psychology. She volunteers with Hope Bridges and Pure Gift of God. Tyler is married to Ash, and both he and Caleb work at Heritage Trucking.

Joyce said the new girls have brought energy and healing to their home — and they’ve come to love Sam, too, even though they never met her.

“They visit her grave with us,” Joyce said. “Sometimes when they see a butterfly, they say her name.”

To keep Sam’s memory close, the family marks her birthday and anniversary with her favorite things — Sweet Frog frozen yogurt, Olive Garden’s gnocchi soup, cheesecake. They play her music, walk in nature and find comfort in the birds and butterflies she adored.

“When we’re feeling sad, we crank the music and go for a walk,” Joyce said. “It helps.”

A mother’s advice

Joyce is open about her journey through grief — and how hard it truly is.

“I will say this — if you have lost your child to suicide, please go get counseling for yourself and your spouse,” Joyce said. “It really does help. I’m very thankful to the counselor that helped my husband and myself.”

She wishes she had taken more time to grieve in those early days.

“Try to take some time off of work,” she said. “I didn’t take enough time and I struggled to the point that being around people gave me horrible anxiety.

“… Be kind to yourself. Everyone grieves differently.”

And for parents whose children are struggling now, Joyce urges them to stay present.

“Listen to your kids, get involved more — I wish I would have homeschooled her,” she said. “Don’t give up, keep taking them to counselors, pray for them.”

She knows the burden can feel unbearable, but no one should carry it alone.

“Reach out to family, friends. Join support groups, don’t try to do this alone,” she said. “Always look to God for guidance.”

In 2023, the United States reported more than 49,000 deaths by suicide — the highest ever. Suicide remains one of the leading causes of death among teenagers.

The Anders family wants to be a voice of hope for others.

“If you take anything from Sam’s story, let it be this,” Joyce said. “You matter. Your story matters. Please don’t give up.”

If you or someone you know is struggling, call or text 988 — the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

Help is always available, you are not alone.

The Anders family knows that firsthand. In grief, in healing, in memory of Sam — they still choose love.