September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, and while it is one of the most important months to me, it is also one of the hardest. Nearly a year ago, I lost a friend to suicide. There are no words for how devastating this loss has been to me and all who knew and loved her. The anniversary is coming up on September 25th, and the irony is not lost on me that she chose this month of all months to end her life. It saddens me even more because of this to know the efforts that were being taken to ensure she was safe and healing. We were too little too late.

 There are so many articles out there that can give you numbers for the suicide epidemic, shockingly high, but they are just numbers. They contain only minor shock value. For me, the real shock is that I know one of those numbers. I have held the person behind that number as she cried, literally wiped the tears from her face. I have laughed with her, sobbed with her, sung along to the radio with her. To me, she is not a number. She is Sydney. My number has a name.

To me, Suicide Awareness Month is a month in which I wish I could run around to every individual in the country and shake each person. I want to grasp them by the shoulders and impress upon them why they should care. I want to plant firmly in their brains that they are worth the time and energy it takes to get better, to feel better. I want them to understand that even if they are not feeling this way, it is imperative that they care about this month for their friends, for their family, for the kid who eats alone at lunch. I need them to know that they will never understand how much they can miss a human being’s light until it is gone, and by then, it is too late.

In my heart, I know that I loved Sydney as loud as I could. I loved her so fiercely there could be no question, and yet, I still ask myself all the time, “What if I had given her a call that day? What if I had been there? What if I had taken a little more time when I saw her last?” I still wonder. I can’t imagine how it would feel to lose someone that way if I had never told them how special they were. I really hope she heard me. It is even more poignant for me because I too was nearly one of the numbers. My heart stopped beating during my last suicide attempt. I need everyone to know that suicide is a universal problem. It knows no boundaries of race, religion, age, sexual orientation, physicality. I was classified as a “good girl,” a “smart girl,” a “nerdy girl.” And as such, no one ever had me pegged for how depressed I really was.

  It is so sad to me how blind we, as a species, a nation, a people, are to the suffering of our fellow human beings. I need everyone to know that Sydney chose to talk about her suicidal thoughts all the time, that we heard her, that the rest of my friends and I were assured countless times that she was just hurting, that she wasn’t serious. I need everyone to know that I never talked about my suicidal thoughts or any feelings for that matter, and because of this, people thought that I was fine. We were not listening to what the other was trying to tell us.

I am torn apart every day by how preventable this tragedy was. I am torn apart every day by how much I miss her with my entire being. I remember her so clearly and fiercely that my chest feels fit to burst. It is this way that I truly know how much I love her. I am haunted by the fact that I never got to say goodbye. I am more haunted by the fact that while she ultimately made the decision, there were staff there who could have stopped her and an army of therapists and doctors who knew she was suffering. Because of this, I know that our system is flawed. Because of this, I know that doctors are not superheroes and no one is infallible.

Suicide Prevention Awareness month happens once a year, but these deaths are taking place every day. It is simply this month where I am given a platform to remind as many humans as possible that the statistics they will see this month are not numbers; they are people. They had lives and stories and meaning and light. They had time… until they didn’t. And they are so, so loved beyond what anyone could ever imagine possible. I can tell you why you should care. I can tell you that mental health affects everyone one. I can tell you that we should care about the suffering of all human beings. I can even tell you that you may one day need help from this broken system yourself. What I cannot make anyone understand, but wish to, is that if things keep going as they are, you too will one day love one of the numbers. Your number will have a name, and knowing they are a statistic in this particular battle will be excruciating beyond anything imaginable. I do not wish that experience upon anyone.

This Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, I ask this. Remember who you love, and then open your arms to someone new. Take stock of those around you. Reach out. Ask questions. Be a good listener. You never know who is struggling. I ask everyone to be kind and think before speaking.

 This is what Suicide Prevention Awareness Month means to me. It means Sydney, creative and curious, intelligent, loveable Sydney, my fellow soldier in the battle we both fought. We loved her so much, but it wasn’t enough.