Honoring those we’ve lost

Two weeks ago, that dynamic changed.

It began with the repost of a social media post dedicated to a peer who recently died by suicide. I had been mindlessly scrolling on Instagram when it suddenly appeared on my screen — a photo and a very familiar name. A name I associated with a middle school friend I hadn’t seen since graduation. The name of a peer whom I ran miles alongside during Mr. Milch’s P.E. class in eighth grade, someone I laughed with during Mrs. Park’s third-period English class and planned silly Leadership events with when the entirety of seventh grade took place on Google Meet and Zoom. 

Yet my mind refused to believe the tribute post was meant for this friend. It wasn’t until I saw my middle school classmates leaving comments and found the link to my friend’s obituary that the reality began to sink in.

It’s one thing to read articles and hold conversations about the growing mental health crisis in the Bay Area. It’s another to find out that one of your peers, classmates and friends is now part of the loss you so often read about. 

But now, when someone asks me why I dedicate hours, days and weeks to the different mental health initiatives I’m involved in, I will answer like this:

I do it for you, Sean/Rowan Taylor. I do it for the kindness and compassion you never seemed to have run out of. I do it for all the conversations we’ve had during class, and the admiration I felt when you offered compelling, interesting thoughts during discussions about the books we read. I do it for everything your friends, family and community members have shared about you — hobbies and passions I wish I had known more about during my time as your peer at Taylor Middle School.

And I do it for you, Summer Devi Mehta. For Ash He. For Cameron Lee. I do it for all the young people and individuals whose lives were lost to suicide.

In honoring those we’ve lost, we must also not let their legacy be forgotten. Their remembrance must live on in the work we do — in the conversations we start, the stigma we challenge and the communities we build where people feel seen, heard and supported. 

So, I will continue showing up to meetings, to events and to the conversations that may be uncomfortable but are always necessary. I will continue advocating for systems that truly care for people by providing the right resources. I will continue doing this work in memory of those we have lost, carrying forward the humanity and light they brought into the world. 

I wholeheartedly encourage you to do the same. If you’re an adult and a resident of San Mateo County, consider becoming a Health Ambassador to help community members who may be experiencing symptoms of a mental illness or a substance use problem, or become certified in Mental Health First Aid. If you are under the age of 25, share your vision of a thriving future through the Futures Commission’s 10K Youth Futures Campaign, where your voice will directly shape the future of mental health in Silicon Valley. Even checking in with someone, starting a conversation at school about mental health or sharing mental health resources can change someone’s life. 

Every action counts. 

The people we’ve lost were more than headlines or statistics. They were our friends, children, classmates, students and loved ones. Their lives mattered, and their light will continue to guide the work we do every day to build communities where people feel loved. 

Iny Li is a senior at Burlingame High School. Student News appears in the weekend edition. You can email Student News at news@smdailyjournal.com.