09/01/2026
Today starts National Su***de Awareness Month. It impacts me deeply because it reminds me of why I came back in the Army and decided to be an Army social worker.
On July 6, 2007, I was out of the Army and staying out. I was in between my first and second years of grad school and life was fine. Then around noon that day, the phone rang, I answered, and my aunt said two words: "Mark's dead."
It was blunt and to the point, but how do you dress up a su***de so that it sounds better? You can't soften the blow; you can't make the news any easier on someone. It's devastating no matter what.
How it happened and why isn't something I want to share because that isn't how I want to remember him. I want to remember him as my first friend, not just in my family but in the whole world. Mark was a good son, brother, cousin, grandson, friend and also a veteran. We served in the same Army Reserve together. Not once in our entire lives did he and I ever argue about anything, I don't even remember ever having a disagreement with him. He had such a sweet, kind and gentle disposition. He was very smart too, I can't remember his MOS but it was something with computers and he always understood technology things - I can plug things into wall outlets and that's about it.
One of the last memories I have with him - I wanted to throw a surprise birthday party for another family member one year, and I had a whole vision of how it would go. I was waiting for the big moment when I would tell everyone to be quiet and yell "happy birthday" when the door opened. Instead, Mark opened the door from the outside, came into the house and Sean followed him in. Apparently, Mark was out on the front porch when Sean came up the steps and Sean asked if there was a birthday party for him. Mark just nonchalantly said yes, it's a surprise birthday party for you, and they had some normal small talk and came in the house together like everything was normal. There was no hiding, lights out, surprises - just people hanging out at my house, talking and enjoying each other's company. Mark was in the group too...not the life of the party per se, but he was there. Calm, content, relaxed - that was the Mark I knew. That's who I remember.
I didn’t intend to come back in the Army after getting out, but that summer in between my first and second years of grad school, I knew I was going to be an Army social worker. It was a combination of things - maybe I could help people before they got to where Mark had gotten to and after losing him the way I did, I definitely know how to take su***de seriously.
If you think of someone who died by su***de this month, look past the way their life ended and remember who they once were. The person you knew before things went south for them. Those are the versions of them that we remember this month, and we honor them by reaching out to other people in our lives and making sure that they know they are loved, valued and needed.
I don't think su***de prevention is about the ask-care-escort stuff, the ASIST training and so on. I mean, that stuff's nice to know but by the time most people implement it, the person is already depressed and possibly suicidal. No, true su***de prevention starts way before that. It starts with picking up the phone or taking the time to go by someone's house even when you think you're too busy for them. It starts with noticing someone is a little distant lately and going out of your way to check on them. Su***de prevention starts when you see someone who is overwhelmed, upset and anxious and you simply say - "despite everything that's going on, you matter to me and I care about you." This month, be the person who truly prevents su***de.
(Photo of Mark and I together, when life was so much simpler.)