A Letter to High School Students and Parents Impacted by Suicide in our Community
By a New Orleans Mom
Right now, our community is carrying something heavier than words.
And while I did not know the student we lost, I know this kind of loss. I know the way suicide doesn’t just break your heart—it shatters your sense of safety and crushes your entire world. It leaves behind questions that don’t have answers. It lingers in the quiet moments and shows up when you least expect it.
Suicide is different.
It cuts deeper. It echoes louder. It stays longer.
To the students — I am so, so sorry.
This is too much. It just is.
You are still figuring out who you are, and now you’re being asked to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense. You may replay conversations. Wonder if you missed something. Wish you had said more, done more, noticed more.
That’s what this kind of loss does.
But hear this clearly: you are not meant to carry that weight.
You don’t have to hold this alone.
Sit together. Even in silence.
Be with your people—at lunch, after school, on the phone late at night.
There is something sacred about shared grief. It doesn’t take the pain away, but it makes it a little more bearable.
To the family —
There are no words that can meet you where you are.
Only a community holding you close, whether you can feel it yet or not.
My best advice: hugs are medicine. Counseling is golden. Memories and pictures and stories are precious. Cherish them.
I’m so deeply sorry for your loss and I’m sending all of my love and prayers.
⸻
When the Grief Feels Unbearable
There is no roadmap for this kind of grief. But there are ways to get through the next hour, the next day:
1) Stay close to each other.
Isolation makes grief louder. Being together, even quietly, softens the edges just a little.
2) Say their name. Tell their stories.
Remember who they were before this moment. Hold onto the fullness of their life—their laugh, their habits, the little things.
3) Do something with your hands.
Make bracelets. Print pictures. Build memory boards. Create something that lets your love go somewhere.
For me, it was pictures. I needed to find every single one. To hold them. To piece together something, to feel productive.
4) Be together outside of school.
Some of the most healing moments happen together. Small groups or large groups. Children and parents all coming together in remembrance continuously. It’s so healing.
5) Lean into physical comfort.
Hug your friends. Sit shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes that’s the only language grief understands.
6) Talk to someone safe.
A counselor. A parent. A trusted adult. There is strength in saying, “I’m not okay.”
⸻
The Part We Don’t Like to Say Out Loud
High school can be beautiful. And it can also be hard. Kids can be kind—and kids can be unkind.
This loss is a painful reminder of something we cannot ignore:
What we say and how we treat each other matters.
More than we realize. I tell my children every single day: the most important thing you can be is kind. Not the smartest. Not the most popular. Not the most talented.
Kind.
Because you never truly know what someone else is carrying. And sometimes, the smallest moment of kindness can be the thing that helps someone hold on.
⸻
To the Parents of High School Children: This Is the Part That Terrifies Us
If you’re a parent reading this, you probably feel it in your chest:
This could be any of our kids.
That thought is hard to sit with. It should be.
But fear alone doesn’t protect our children—connection does. So what can we do?
Stay close, even when they pull away.
Teenagers naturally create distance. Keep showing up anyway. Sit near them. Drive them places. Be available without forcing it.
Make talking about feelings normal.
Not just the big, heavy conversations. The small, everyday check-ins matter more than one “big talk.”
Listen more than you fix.
Sometimes what they need most is to feel heard—not corrected or solved.
Watch for changes.
Withdrawal, mood shifts, loss of interest, changes in sleep—these are signals, not problems to punish.
Normalize asking for help.
Therapy. Counseling. Support. Let them see that getting help is strength, not weakness.
Keep the message simple and constant:
You matter.
You are loved.
You can tell me anything.
We cannot control everything our children experience.
But we can make sure they never have to face it alone.
⸻
If You Are Hurting
If this loss has stirred something in you—if you feel overwhelmed, alone, or like the weight is too much—please reach out. You are not alone in this, even if it feels like you are. Call or text 988, the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. There is someone there, right now, who will listen without judgment.
⸻
Holding On, Together
This kind of grief doesn’t disappear. But over time, it shifts. The sharp, unbearable pain may soften into something quieter. You may find yourself remembering the good without it breaking you in the same way.
That doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten. It means you’re learning how to carry it.
Until then— Stay close. Say the hard things. Hold onto each other. And when you don’t know what else to do— Choose kindness and love. Every time.
⸻
With all my love,
A New Orleans mom who knows this tremendous loss all too well
May is mental health awareness month. In 2024, there were an estimated 2.2M suicide attempts. According to the most recent Youth Risk Behavior Survey (2023), 9% of youth in grades 9-12 attempted suicide at least once in the past 12 months. We can work together to prioritize mental health. Visit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention website for more information and resources.
