On Jan. 9, 2024, my dad committed suicide. He drove off to Conway, where he did it. 

Although I was supposed to be at school, we all went back home to talk about the new job my dad was offered, and that he would possibly leave for Colorado. Nothing was off with him; he was the same dad I always saw, always knew, and always laughed with. 

After we talked, he left for work, and I waved him goodbye as he drove off. Looking back, one of my biggest regrets is that I never told him I loved him. Around 12 p.m. that day, I heard my mom calling his name from upstairs. She was on the phone with him, but he wasn’t responding. We kept calling and texting him, but there was nothing. 

So we called the police, and that’s when the news hit us. He was dead in his car. He had driven to Conway and shot himself. I will never forget my mom’s crying and franticness–the way she hugged me and the way my shirt was soaked full of her tears. I was speechless, still processing the fact that my dad was gone. 

Everything after that —the funeral and the three weeks I spent out of school—was kind of a blur. 

When I came back, nothing had changed. It was as if time had only stopped for me and my family. I believe that’s when I realized: the world won’t stop for you, it won’t let up, and it doesn’t have favorites. Classes went by, exams flew by, and then it was summer. I didn’t want to do anything, but the more time I did nothing, the worse I felt. I started occupying my time with different activities, even though I didn’t want to. 

The older I got, the more I learned about myself. I formed my own thoughts and decisions on the topic of suicide; I carved my own path. But with all of that independence, I still ask myself if my dad was truly proud of me, or if he would be proud of me now? I couldn’t answer these questions. 

All of these hardships have helped me overcome my grief more positively. I learned it is okay to be upset, but it is never okay to not say anything about it. As much as people hear that, it’s true. 

The leading cause of death for men 15 to 29-years-old is suicide. This is because most men want to appear strong, as if nothing is bothering them. Over time, it builds, and eventually, you can’t hold it all in anymore. But to actually have the pride, the strength, and the bravery to speak out and ask for help is stronger than any “strong” man. 

There are many reasons to live. Life isn’t a set expectation; life is whatever you make of it. It is yours, and only yours. Suicide is a permanent solution to temporary issues. You don’t get a retry in life, so make the most out of the one you have. 

The way I see it is that taking your own life is a complete waste of your life, and I’m sure no matter who you ask, they’d all agree. But why is it bad to commit suicide if you’re just gonna die anyway? Because there are still many things you can do before that time. You have no clue when you will die, but you know you can stop yourself from making it happen now. Suicide is a grim topic, as is men’s mental health, but I feel these things are not expressed enough. 

Mental Health isn’t a gender-based issue, but it is undeniable that there is a significant difference in rates of suicide between genders. Historically, men have been more likely to commit suicide than women. There should be much more help available for people with mental issues, and, sadly, there isn’t. A readily available lifeline is crucial. 

If someone you know or even yourself is going through something and has or is planning to take their own life, reach out. Speak to someone, write about it, or just express your hardships. It will never make you look weak; in fact, it only makes you look stronger. As much as you think there is nothing left, there is so much more than you will ever know. You just need to keep going, keep living, and be the best you that you can.

To learn more about suicide prevention, read this article by Jacob Hunter.