I thought I knew loss since losing my father to a brain tumor when I was 5 years old. Once a lighthearted, happy daddy’s girl, my memories were overshadowed by my last minutes with him and then seeing his body in a casket. I struggled through childhood depression, fearful of death or losing my mother next. As a teenager, I embarked on a reckless course of substance abuse, running away, and juvenile delinquency. At 16, I straightened out, declared my life ambition to become a wife and mother, got an adult high school diploma, married, and had my first child at 18. By 25, I’d had 2 husbands and 4 children. At 27, I realized I couldn’t support myself or my children if needed, so I enrolled in college, earned an A.A. with a 4.0 GPA, and transferred to university as a biology major. However, a second divorce prevented me from finishing. Returning to state college, I earned an A.S. in radiography to support myself and my children as a single mother. In my late 30s, I suffered work-related repetitive motion injuries, resulting in chronic pain and illness. I was unable to work or finish my degree. During 20+ years of disability, I was also diagnosed with Hep C and chronic Lyme disease. I couldn’t function or care for myself, so my grown children took turns helping take care of me. As I fought for my life through those years, my oldest daughter was stricken with rare, mysterious illnesses, became bedridden, and barely stayed alive. Caring for each other, we limped along for several years. Her suffering was so severe she threatened suicide regularly. I feared checking on her each day, that I might find her dead. During this time, my youngest son came back home, unbeknownst to me, suffering severe depression and anxiety. In the Fall of 2014, my daughter needed a specialist doctor across the country. My son decided to stay home alone. 3 weeks later, my phone rang. A man’s voice said he was a police detective investigating a death at my address. In that instant, I knew. My youngest son was dead. I threw the phone toward my daughter, saying, “I can’t,” and ran into the other room, unable to breathe. The universe turned upside down as my world shattered. Life as I knew it was over. My sweet son had killed himself. I later learned it was his 4th attempt. He was one of several friends over a couple years, making him part of a “cluster suicide.” I cried uncontrollably for over a year, staggering through the days. Almost a year later, their father’s brother died by suicide, and my youngest daughter’s mind broke. I watched helplessly as psychosis took her mind away as she struggled with terror and grief. Next, her daughter began to suffer severe mental illness, cutting herself and threatening suicide every day. Nothing prepared me for all this: the nightmare of losing a child, the constant threat of losing another. My life was a living hell. Since losing my father, my life has been littered with loss - accidents, illness, old age, overdoses, murder, and now suicide. I observed life’s fragility as I watched it end suddenly, without reason or warning. What was the meaning or point of it all? Words in my son’s suicide note included, “Don’t live in regret.” A grief book said, “We never get over our grief, but we can learn to rebuild our lives around it.” Another suggested to live our lives in honor of those we’ve lost. My sister advised, “Keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Clinging to those thoughts, I slowly came back to life. I realized that each day, we have a choice to live or die, pursue our hopes and dreams, or give in to sorrow and despair. I was in the valley of the shadow of death, been to hell and back many times, facing my own and my children’s mortality. One day, I chose life! Experiences showed me our mental health system, particularly suicide prevention, is inadequate. As a non-traditional student, determined to finish my degree, now on an anthropology track, the loss of my son motivated me to fight back. I plan to use my life experiences to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves! My academic accomplishments and background uniquely qualify me to write, speak, and advocate for improved mental health care and suicide prevention. I fought for my life, overcoming a lot so I could return to school and fight for others not to lose their life or a loved one to suicide. I am focused and determined to help others, achieve my goals, and make a difference. I am grateful for the opportunity to share my story and apply for this award.