What happened next was a blur. I remember her saying, “he’s dead?” “Who,” you may ask. It was my best friend’s younger brother, Brody. I remember throwing clothes in my suitcase, loading the vehicle, and driving to Oklahoma. What is normally about a five-hour drive felt like an eternity! Everything was going in slow motion. Is his sister okay? How do I comfort her? Why did he do this? So many questions flooded my head. I didn’t know what we were doing or how we would help. There is nothing you can say to a grieving family to make them feel better; the best you can do is just be there. We didn’t know what we were to be approaching. 

I remember arriving at their home and running upstairs to embrace Kenzi in a hug. I refused to let go first; I only knew I needed to be there for her. She is my best friend, and she just lost her little brother. All I could think about was how I would want her with me if I were in her position. It was a devastating time, a loss to all who knew him. The next few days were filled with planning a celebration of life service and sharing stories of Brody with one another. 

On March 8th, my dad and I returned to Arkansas because I had the most important gymnastics meet of the year that coming Friday: our state championship and regional qualifier. That week, I felt a lot of stress because I was the Arkansas State Floor Champion for three consecutive years, and COVID-19 had robbed us of our state gymnastics meet the year before. The floor was my favorite event in gymnastics. I got to do the two things I loved most: dance and tumble. It was also my highest-scoring event at every meet. I knew if I fell off the beam or didn’t hit my requirements on the bars, my floor score would make up for it. I had to get an all-around score of 34.0 to make it to regionals. 

My mom couldn’t be there because she and my younger brother stayed in Oklahoma helping our friends, our chosen family. It was the first gym meet my mom had missed in ages. It was my turn on the floor; my head flooded with emotions. I wanted to be at this gym meet, but I also wanted to be in Oklahoma with my family. I was so afraid of letting my teammates down; they counted on my floor score for our team score and placement. I completed my routine. I did okay. It wasn’t my best, but it was still good enough. I competed in the remaining events and realized I didn’t qualify for the regional meet. “That’s okay; there is always next year,” I told myself. I just wanted to get back to my family and friends in Oklahoma. It was so hard to be present at a gym meet when devastation was hitting my second family. After my gym meet ended, my dad and I drove the excruciating journey back to Oklahoma. 

The very next day,  on Saturday, March 13, 2026, we had Brody’s Celebration of Life service; we cried, we laughed, and we cried even more. It was so heartwarming to see the number of people who drove from all over to be there for this hurting family. That is the story of my first experience with someone who lost their life to an evil illness called “depression.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t my last.