08/15/2026
My name is Meghan Peters. I’m a licensed social worker, the founder and director of S.E.N.D. I.T. Harm Reduction, and Lewis University graduate. For those
of you who don't know, I was invited to the AFSP Walk last year and shared my story as not only a
professional, but also as a survivor of su***de. While my story shapes the way I speak on this
topic, this year, I’m standing here carrying something different. Something heavier. Something I
hoped I never had to speak on.
Last August, I lost a dear friend to su***de. His passing was sudden, unexpected, and a shock that
rippled through everyone who knew and loved him. In fact, we had plans to see friends from out
of town with him the very next day. None of us could have imagined we’d be grieving instead.
I want to tell you a little about who Michael was. Mikey was the friend who always checked in,
even if you hadn’t talked in months. He was the one who brought people together — even people
who didn’t seem like they’d ever mesh — and somehow made it work. He cared deeply about
how others felt, but kept so much of his own pain tucked away. He showed up for everyone else,
but struggled to show up for himself. When he was overwhelmed, he got quiet. And even though
he had an army behind him, he rarely spoke about his own struggles.
I only had three years of friendship with him — and still, he made me feel seen in rooms full of
people. Showing up to his home and never feeling like a burden, never feeling unwanted, and
always ready to bring a smile to someone's face or play the newest tune off the speakers. That
was his gift. That was his presence. And that’s why losing him has been so devastating for so
many.
I would give anything to tell him that su***de is not the answer. That the pain we feel is
temporary and that life has so many moments waiting to be uncovered. That the world was so
much better with him in it. That he deserved to give himself the same compassion he so freely
gave to everyone else.
But su***de is something we cannot reverse or take back, even if I wish we could.
What we can do is make sure his story reaches those of you who are looking for a reason to stay.
We can make sure his life — and his loss — becomes the reason someone reaches out, speaks
up, or chooses to stay one more day.
Because su***de doesn’t just take one life. It impacts families, friends, coworkers, classmates,
and entire communities. It leaves questions, guilt, confusion, heartbreak, even anger — and none of that is anyone’s fault. When someone is struggling, the responsibility is never on the people
around them to “fix” it. While support is powerful, it is not control. Love is powerful, but it is
not prevention by itself.
What I’ve learned — both as a professional and as someone who has been on the edge myself —
is that what saves lives is connection. Real, human connection. It’s the conversations that feel a
little scary, the check‑ins that feel a little awkward, the moments where we choose honesty over
silence. It’s speaking up before things feel like a crisis, even when we can’t fully explain what’s
wrong yet. And it’s allowing ourselves to be seen, even when every instinct tells us to hide.
I know how hard that can be. I know what it feels like to think your pain is too heavy, or that you
don’t want to burden anyone, or that other people have it worse. I’ve been there. And I also know
that the moment someone reached toward me — the moment someone said, “I’m not going
anywhere” — it changed everything.
Mikey was someone who checked in on others constantly. But he didn’t always feel able to say,
“I’m not okay.” And that’s something I want to talk about today — because so many people in
this crowd know exactly what that feels like.
You don’t have to wait until you’re in crisis to reach out. You don’t have to wait until you’re
drowning to say you need help. Asking for help early is not dramatic, it’s not a burden, It’s not
weakness. And it’s okay to feel like things just aren’t okay. But we need you to stay, even if its
for one more day. Because I have yet to meet someone who wasn’t profoundly affected when
someone they love is lost to su***de. Even when it feels like no one cares, or no one wants to
listen, we have to learn to use our voice and speak up when things feel dark.
And for those supporting someone who is struggling:
You don’t have to have all the answers. None of us do.
You don’t have to say the perfect thing, or be a professional to provide support.
Sometimes the most powerful words are:
“I’m here. I care. You’re not alone.”
We walk today for those we’ve lost. We walk for those who are still struggling. We walk for the
people who haven’t found the words yet. We walk because hope is real, and help is possible.
Please, talk with those closest to you and know that you are so loved.
-AFSP Lewis University Out of Darkness Walk, 2026.
