Brenda Skelenge – a mother, teacher, music enthusiast, and friend to many – is known for her warmth and generosity, but love has also brought her pain. The suicide of her husband, Dr Timothy Freeth, marked a turning point in her life. In a conversation with Health For Mzansi journalist Vateka Halile, Skelenge reflects on how they met, the final chapter of his life, and the path she’s been walking since his passing.
A shared love for music and parenting
Skelenge first met Timothy “Timo” Freeth in 2012 at a music venue in Cape Town. At the time, she was a mother to toddler twin boys and often attended jazz gigs. Timo, a doctor by profession, also moonlighted as a DJ.
Their bond started casually over music and parenting. “He saw my profile picture with the twins and said, ‘Oh, you’ve got twins!’” she recalls. “That’s how we started talking. It was never anything personal at first.”
Their conversations naturally expanded from playlists to parenting challenges and shared stories about raising children. At the time, Skelenge assumed Timo was married because he wore a ring and spoke fondly of his children. But he often sought parenting advice, and the two found comfort in exchanging experiences.
In 2013, Timo called Skelenge to invite her to a gig in Woodstock. That night opened a new chapter.
Timo was going through a separation, and Skelenge was raising her children alone.
The two began talking more intimately about their lives, including co-parenting, separation, and the complexities of blending families. They found common ground.
READ NEXT: Death by suicide: The final symptoms of mental illness
Mental health struggles
“There was a lot going on for him,” she says. “By the first week of dating, I was already accompanying him to therapy. We supported each other from the start.”
From the beginning, Timo was open about his mental health struggles. Skelenge knew he was still processing his separation, and that co-parenting was a painful and ongoing challenge. A lot of his distress, she says, came from not being able to see his children consistently.
“Timo loved his kids with all his heart. Not being able to see them when he wanted to, that broke him,” she shares.
Money troubles added to the pressure, especially during periods when he was out of work. When he eventually returned to his job, office politics only made things worse, she adds.
At one point, Timo attempted suicide and broke his arm. “We kept it quiet to protect the children,” says Skelenge.
READ NEXT: Getting through grief after losing a loved one
His final days
Even with all the ups and downs, Skelenge remembers their relationship as one rooted in love, support, and a deep bond with the children. But Timo’s mental health challenges never really went away.
She tells Health For Mzansi that he often spoke about suicide. “He used to say it felt like the only way out of the mess in his head,” she recalls.
They spoke about it many times, and even though she was there for him in every way she could be, there were moments when he still felt alone in his pain — something Skelenge carries with her to this day.
“There were times he seemed happy, like he was getting better. But then the episodes would return. That’s not how I want to remember him, but it was part of our lives – a mix of love, understanding, sadness, and care.”
Brenda Skelenge
She remembers moments when she’d sit on the couch in tears. “I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. He’d always tell me he saw me, that he knew I cared, but it was just too much for him.”
Some nights, he’d leave the house without a word. Skelenge learned to give him space, but the worry never left her.
They spoke openly about suicide, but when the final moment came, it happened fast. He came home from work, asked to be surrounded by family, and was rushed to hospital. He died hours later in September 2023.
Skelenge and her children have since sought therapy. “We made sure to talk about him. To reflect on the life we shared,” she says. However, the grief remains.
“Some days I still hide my feelings because it’s easier. Some music brings back memories that are too raw,” she adds.
“He loved us. He really did. But he carried so much. And in the end, we couldn’t save him from it.”
READ NEXT: Young men at risk: No more silence on suicide
Living through the loss
KwaZulu-Natal-based educational psychologist Sandile Radebe says people living with mental health conditions often show signs, either directly or indirectly, that they’re not coping and may be thinking about suicide.
“Sometimes people brush it off with a ‘you’ll be fine’, but often those words or actions are a silent cry for help.”
Sandile Radebe
He believes there are many healthy ways to cope with a loved one’s suicide, depending on the kind of therapy or support a person receives.
“Sometimes therapy helps you work through the guilt – that heavy feeling that maybe you could have done more or that it’s somehow your fault,” he says.
Radebe explains that grief doesn’t follow a set timeline, and people experience it in different ways.
“There’s no standard formula for how long grief should last. But it becomes even more complicated when no note is left behind and the person left behind starts questioning everything.”
He adds that unresolved grief can lead to depression, which can become life-threatening. “We know that the final stage of untreated depression can be suicide.
“Healing is gradual, even for those who seem to be doing well. There’s no moment where you’re suddenly okay. People move through denial and anger – sometimes directed at the person who died or even at themselves.”
Ultimately, he says, healing comes through a process of acceptance and adaptation, often supported by therapy. “There may be no set timeframe, but there is a way through it.”
Do you need help?
- Suicide hotline: 0800 567 567
- SADAG (The South African Depression and Anxiety Group): 0800 21 22 23 (8am to 8pm); 0800 12 13 14 (8pm to 8am) or SMS 31393.
ALSO READ: Mental health: ‘Teach men it is okay not to be okay’
Get the Health For Mzansi newsletter: Your bi-weekly dose of kasi health, wellness and self-care inspiration.
