09/25/2025
September 27 will always be the morning I woke to find my 17-year-old son gone. I still remember the smallness of the room, the way breath left my body, and the impossible question that follows every parent who loses a child this way: why?
I spent my life able to care for others — giving breath, holding hands, making plans — and yet I could not breathe life back into my own child. That pain is my truth. It is raw, constant, and it changes everything.
September is Su***de Prevention Month. I’m sharing this not for pity but for purpose. My son’s death matters. His story matters. And your story — or your silence — matters too.
If you’re reading this and carrying a secret weight, please know you are not alone. If you are worried about someone, don’t wait for permission to reach out. Do the small things: hold them, explain why you’re concerned, listen without trying to fix, and help make a safety plan. (I use the acronym HELP: Hold me — Explain — Listen — Plan.)
If you are in immediate danger, please call your local emergency number now. If you need someone to talk to, call or text 988 (U.S.) to reach the Su***de & Crisis Lifeline. If you’re outside the U.S., please find local crisis resources through your health services.
Grief is not something you get over — it’s something you carry, learn to live with, and let change you. If my sharing helps one person ask for help, or one neighbor step in, then my son’s life keeps moving work in the world.
