Recent data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shows that suicide is the second leading cause of death for Americans aged 25 to 34, and the third leading cause overall. The rate among men was four times higher than for women. In Pennsylvania, suicide rates have risen 32.7 percent over the past 20 years.

These numbers are horrifying — but for me, they’re also heartbreakingly personal.

Ten months ago, my heart was irreparably broken when my oldest child and only son Michael became one of those statistics.

He was supposed to visit for a belated birthday dinner with me, his dad Mark, and his sister Gina. He turned 27 just three days prior. When he didn’t respond to our texts or calls, we were concerned — but at first, not alarmed. Delayed replies weren’t unusual. But as the day wore on, our worries grew.

Mark and I drove to his apartment in Philadelphia. I contacted his roommate, who gave us the code to a lockbox with a spare key. We kept calling and texting Michael but got no reply. When we arrived and entered his room, we found our son’s body. A note nearby began, “Dear Mom and Dad, I’m sorry …”

Michael was 6-foot-4 with beautiful blue eyes and a dynamite smile. As a toddler, he was constantly in motion — jumping from his crib, escaping the stroller, emptying kitchen cabinets. He loved music, toy cars, and driving his Power Wheels Silverado. He adored his grandparents and the boardwalk rides in Ocean City, New Jersey.

He was sociable and funny, participated in choir and musical theater, and even sang solos with poise and confidence. But underneath that smile, Michael often felt out of place.

Michael began struggling with his mental health during puberty. Counseling helped only intermittently. At his lowest, he could be inconsolable. Though he was intelligent, high school was difficult. After graduating, he moved to Philadelphia and started to actively manage his own care. When he left home a second time after the Covid lockdown, he seemed more grounded — working, finishing his bachelor’s degree, exercising, and spending time with friends.

Michael worked in the food service industry from the time he was 16. Before his death, he was a shift manager at Starbucks. He loved serving people their favorite drinks, and his desire to attentively fulfill their orders made him beloved by customers.

He loved his friends and family. He loved his cat, Georgia. He loved hiking, biking, karaoke, live music, and good food. He was compassionate, observant, witty, and championed fairness for everyone.

In the six months before his death, Michael grappled with a health issue he believed was incurable. We knew he was anxious, but none of us, family, friends nor coworkers, knew he was contemplating suicide. We didn’t know he had made attempts. He hid it from us all. If only he’d told us …

As we planned his memorial, I searched for a charity where we could direct donations, something that would honor Michael’s life and benefit the city he called home. That’s when I found Mental Health Partnerships, a Philadelphia-based nonprofit offering support and programming for people living with mental health challenges.

Through June 5, I’m partnering with Mental Health Partnerships to spark conversations about mental health and the power of peer support. We believe:

• • When people are free to talk about their feelings and fears without judgment, they feel less alone — and recovery feels possible.
  • One conversation between peers can change the course of a life. Especially for someone battling suicidal thoughts.

My heart will forever have a missing piece that only Michael can fill. But by sharing his story — as a mother, as a suicide loss survivor — I hope to raise awareness, foster compassion, and help others find the help they need before it’s too late.

Let’s talk about it. Someone’s life may depend on it.

Suzanne Simonelli is a suicide loss survivor from Chester County. She is a certified public accountant and the founder of Bella Vita Financial, where she helps individuals and businesses achieve financial wellness. Suzanne lives with her husband, their daughter, a vivacious Labrador Retriever, and Michael’s cat, Georgia. She shares Michael’s story to honor his memory, raise awareness about mental health, and support others affected by suicide loss.

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