The first item in their new house was a brown little army guy that Joey placed on top of a motion detector to keep everyone safe. On the day Joey died, his sister gathered many of his soldiers he had collected since he was little and placed them throughout the house.
They had been part of his life for as long as anyone could remember.
As a child he carried bags of them to swim meets and theater rehearsals, quietly entertaining himself for hours. He had “thousands of little army men,” his mom, Nora, said.
His interest in military history was passed down from his father and grandfather, reinforced by evenings spent watching the history channel together, and reading the oversized military history books he paged through as a child.
“He was funny. Wicked smart,” Nora said. At school, “he was a bit of a mentor.” If someone was being picked on, “he would step in.”
What Joey did not do — Nora now understands painfully — was show himself the same kindness he showed everyone else.
“He was super hard on himself,” she said. And even though he was surrounded by people who loved him, “I think he felt alone.”
Joey had ADHD, and staying on top of school assignments was difficult. Then came COVID.
For a child like Joey, remote schooling was “the absolute worst possible setup,” Nora said. A social kid was suddenly isolated. A teenager who needed connection felt suddenly cut off.
When the school gave him more flexibility on assignments, Nora said Joey fell further behind. His parents tried to help.
“It was kind of this unfortunate culmination of everything happening at the same time,” she said. “What do you call that? The perfect storm.”
Joey continued to deal with depression and had a hard time finding his way. He loved the idea of being on the football team, but when he was placed on the junior team, mostly with younger students, “he felt less than.” His parents found him a therapist, consulted a psychiatrist and his pediatrician, and reached out to his school, but he continued to struggle.
After Joey died at age 16, people in Nora’s community, friends, neighbors, and other parents began reaching out.
“So many people said, ‘My kid is struggling too,’ or ‘My kid had a suicide attempt,’” she said.
When Nora and her husband wrote Joey’s obituary, they refused to hide that he had died by suicide.
They didn’t want any other family to feel the anguish they were feeling.
A grief that was overwhelming.
“I was just a walking zombie,” Nora said of the first year. She cried every day for three years.
But something shifted.
“Acceptance isn’t quite the right word,” Nora said. But she discovered another way to move forward.
She attends suicide awareness walks. She speaks publicly. She shares her story with other parents when it might help. And she has learned to ask new kinds of questions, questions she asks her daughter: “Do you want me just to listen? Do you want me to be your companion as you work through this? Do you want me to offer help?”
It’s the kind of presence she wishes she had understood sooner.
“Each kid is on their own journey,” Nora said. “Be on that journey with them. Meet them where they are.”
“The biggest thing for me,” Nora said, “is that not enough people talk about it. The stigma urges silence. People just aren’t talking about mental health and suicide in a safe way.”
There are still moments when the loss strikes unexpectedly. For Nora, airports are the hardest.
“He’ll never see the world like I always imagined he would see it.”
Nora still has Joey’s soldiers scattered throughout the house, including the ones her daughter placed there the day he died. When Nora sees one, she feels his presence watching over them.
Find out how you can make an impact on youth mental health.
If you or someone you know needs to talk to someone right now, text, call, or chat 988 for a free confidential conversation with a trained counselor 24/7.
You can also contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “HOME” to 741741.
If this is a medical emergency or if there is immediate danger of harm, call 911 and explain that you need support for a mental health crisis.
If you or someone you know needs to talk to someone right now, text, call, or chat 988 for a free confidential conversation with a trained counselor 24/7.
You can also contact the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 741-741.
If this is a medical emergency or if there is immediate danger of harm, call 911 and explain that you need support for a mental health crisis.
