Johnny’s Story: Finding Light in the Darkness

When I was in middle school, I lost a close friend and classmate to suicide. I’ll never forget the morning after — walking into school and immediately sensing that something was different. The usual chatter in the hallways was replaced with a heavy silence, and the air felt thick with confusion and grief. Teachers looked just as lost as we were. My classmates whispered in hushed tones, but no one seemed to know what to say out loud.

For me, it was the first time I had ever experienced the death of someone I knew personally, let alone someone my own age. I had no words for the swirl of emotions inside me — shock, sadness, guilt, and a deep sense of helplessness. I remember staring at my desk in class, wondering how it was possible that my friend was really gone, and why no one seemed able to explain what had happened.

At that age, no one had ever talked to me about mental health, suicide, or what it meant when someone was in that much pain. I was left with unanswered questions and grief I didn’t know how to carry. But looking back, that moment planted a seed in me — the belief that silence around mental health helps no one. The absence of conversation only deepened the isolation I felt, and I knew, even then, that things had to be different.

That experience shaped how I think about mental health today. It’s one of the reasons I feel so strongly about events like the Shine the Light Suicide Prevention and Awareness Summit and the work that NAMI does. They create the conversations that I wish had been there when I was 13 years old, sitting in a classroom, struggling to understand the weight of such a loss.

Stories like mine, and so many others, highlight why Suicide Prevention Month matters. Behind every statistic is a name, a face, a family, and a community forever changed. And behind every story is the chance to spark change, build compassion, and remind someone else that they are not alone.