Forever Michael’s mom: Christine on remembering her son and living with suicide loss

Four years after losing her son Michael to suicide, Christine reflects on his life, the challenges he faced, and how her family continues to remember him.

When Christine thinks about her son Michael as a little boy, she remembers how much he loved being outside.

He was fascinated by dinosaurs and fossils. He loved digging, exploring the woods, and turning over rocks to see what he could find.

Michael was curious, creative, and determined. He also struggled with his mental health for years.

On May 19, 2022, Michael died by suicide. He was 23.

Four years later, Christine continues to find ways to carry her grief while remembering the son she loves.

When Michael was six, the family moved to Boston, New York, a small town south of Buffalo. Their new home had nearly an acre of land, with woods and a creek behind it.

Christine thought it would be perfect for him.

Michael and his younger brother spent hours exploring the creek, collecting fossils, catching frogs, and occasionally bringing snakes into the family’s garage.

As Michael grew older, Christine began to notice that some things became harder for him.

In the seventh grade, he was diagnosed with ADHD. By high school, he was struggling with anxiety.

But while Michael could be hard on himself, his mother said he was quick to encourage other people.

He loved writing music, especially hip hop, and often collaborated with a friend who was also experiencing mental health challenges. They shared what they’d written and encouraged each other.

“He was my biggest encourager,” a friend of Michael’s told Christine at his funeral.

As he got older, Michael’s mental health struggles became more serious.

At 18, he survived his first suicide attempt. Over the next five years, he received treatment and worked to find stability, with Christine and the rest of his family supporting him.

For a long time, Christine was the person he turned to first.

“There is nothing you could say to me that would keep me away from you,” she remembers telling him.

Eventually, Michael entered a residential treatment program in Pennsylvania. He worked through a series of programs designed to help him manage his mental health, find work, and live independently.

He chose to settle in Chattanooga, Tennessee, in part for the warmer weather and the mountains. 

Christine recalls visiting him there one day. 

“I hugged him and I put my hands on his cheeks,” Christine recalls. “I said, ‘Oh, I just wanna touch this face.’”

They walked around the neighborhood together, talking. Michael wanted to stop and say hello to a dog he’d befriended during his daily walks.

It’s one of Christine’s favorite memories of her son.

Four years after his death, Christine says she misses Michael every day.

“It’s not just every holiday, it’s every hour of every day,” she says.

She describes grief as carrying a backpack filled with heavy boulders. At first, the weight feels almost impossible to bear. Over time, she says, you learn how to carry it.

For Christine, that has meant finding moments of gratitude while continuing to acknowledge how much she misses her son.

She’s grateful for her husband, her children, her work as a nurse, and the family they’ve worked hard to keep close.

She also hopes Michael’s story encourages other families to take mental health challenges seriously and seek support without shame or judgment.

“You have to meet them where they’re at that day, that hour,” she says.

It’s one reason she supports The Jed Foundation (JED). Christine believes young people and their families need access to support before a crisis, particularly in schools and communities where resources can be difficult to find.

And when she talks about her own life today, she returns to something that hasn’t changed.

“I’m still a mother. I’m still a wife. I’m still a nurse. I’m still Michael’s mother.”

Christine shared her family’s story as part of JED’s International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day campaign. You can read more stories, access resources, and share a memory of your own here.

If you or someone you know is in crisis or needs support right now, text, call, or chat 988, or text HOME (or HOLA) to 741-741 to reach the Crisis Text Line.