On June 22, 2023, I lost my big brother, Aidan, just two days before his 17th birthday. He died of a sudden, unexpected illness that quickly turned into a catastrophic case of virus-induced encephalitis. Like me, my brother was also adopted from Guatemala. Eleven months apart in age, we were two Guatemalan children being raised by white parents. We were inseparable, not just because we were siblings, but because we were each other's only mirror in a world that often didn't reflect us. He was the one person who understood what it meant to grow up between cultures and to feel visible and invisible at the same time. One minute he was a healthy, competitive tumbler and a protective big brother. The next he was gone. I have been learning to live without his presence and navigate my grief ever since that awful summer day two years ago. When he died, I didn't just lose him. I lost a part of myself. His death disrupted everything. My focus at school, my confidence, and my sense of safety were all negatively impacted by his loss. Through therapy, theatre, and hard work I learned how to push forward and began to excel in school. Despite the challenges, Aidan's death made me more determined than ever to honor him my pursuing the life he never got to live. That's why I'm going to college and pursuing my dreams. I've been accepted into Illinois State University's Theatre Production, Design, and Technology program, where I'll focus on scenic design. Theatre has always been a passion of mine, but after Aidan's death, it became something even greater. It is where I can channel pain into creativity and bring stories of loss, hope and identity to life in ways words can't. Scenic design allows me to create entire worlds from scratch. The sets I help create make audiences feel something, reflect something powerful back to them, and hopefully even help them heal. One of my favorite quotes is by Edgar Degas and is in my theatre portfolio - "Art is not what you see, but what you make others see." I would take that one step further and say that art is what you can make others feel. My experience in the theatre arts save me during the worst time of my life. Through theatre, I've found my voice, my purpose, and a way to support others. I have spent each summer since Aidan's death, mentoring younger students in theatre programs in my local community playhouse and working behind the scenes on emotionally powerful productions. Even though I have struggled to put my pain into words, in theatre, I can create spaces where people feel something real. These experiences have helped me cope with the hardest experience of my life and shown me that even in my darkest moments of grief, I can be a part of creating something beautiful that helps others.

Pursuing a college education is deeply personal to me. I was born in Guatemala and adopted as a baby into a white American family. I’ve worked very hard to succeed in school, but my motivation comes from something much deeper than grades and hard work. My motivation comes from grief, identity, and a promise to keep going. In 2023, I lost my older brother to a sudden and unexplained illness. He was also adopted from Guatemala, just eleven months older than me. We were inseparable, not just because we were siblings, but because we were each other’s only mirror in a world that often didn’t reflect us. He was the one person who understood what it meant to grow up between cultures, to feel visible and invisible at the same time. When he died, I didn’t just lose him. I also lost a part of myself. His death disrupted everything: my focus at school, my confidence, my sense of safety. But it also made me more determined than ever to honor him by pursuing the life he never got to live. That’s why I’m going to college. I’ve been accepted into Illinois State University’s Theatre Design and Technology program, where I’ll focus on scenic design. Theater has always been a passion of mine, but after my brother’s death, it became something even greater. It came to be a place where I could channel pain into creativity, and where I could bring stories of loss, hope, and identity to life in ways words couldn’t. Scenic design allows me to create entire worlds from scratch. The sets I help create make audiences feel something, reflect something back to them, or even help them heal. Art has saved me. Through it, I’ve found my voice, my purpose, and a way to support others. I’ve mentored younger students in theater programs, worked behind the scenes on emotionally powerful productions, and helped create spaces where people could feel something real. It has helped me cope with the hardest experience of my life and shown me that even in the darkest moments, beauty can be built. While my brother’s death wasn’t the result of a crime, the trauma of losing him so suddenly left scars that still shape me. I carry those scars into everything I create. I believe in the power of art to speak for those who struggle to find words, and I’m committed to using my education to do just that.

Mental health and suicide prevention are important topics for my generation because so many of us are struggling silently. We’re growing up in a world of constant pressure. Pressure to succeed, to be seen, to hold everything together even when we’re hurting. Social media makes it easy to compare ourselves to others and hard to ask for help. I’ve seen firsthand how these struggles can become overwhelming. In 2023, I lost my older brother, who was my best friend and the one person who truly understood me, to a sudden and unexpected illness. The grief that followed was the deepest pain I’ve ever known. It affected everything. My energy, my relationships, my confidence, my will to keep going. My brother was also adopted from Guatemala, just eleven months older than me. We shared a unique bond, not just as siblings, but as two brown kids in a mostly white space. Losing him wasn’t just losing a family member. It also felt like losing the only person who shared my roots. I didn’t realize until after he died how much of my strength came from feeling seen by him. Since his death, I’ve come to understand that grief and mental health are intertwined. I’ve experienced anxiety, sadness, and moments of deep loneliness. But I’ve also learned the importance of talking about mental health and seeking help. I've learned the importance of making space for others who are hurting and reminding them they’re not alone. That’s why suicide prevention matters so much. People need to know they are valued and that it’s okay to ask for support. Theater has helped me survive the past two years. Through scenic design and backstage production, I’ve found a way to process my grief and create beauty in the midst of pain. Theatre has given me purpose and a creative family that celebrates everyone's unique qualities. I’ve worked on shows that center young people’s voices, stories of loss and resilience, and I’ve helped lead activities for younger students to express themselves creatively. I want to keep using theater as a way to connect people and make space for healing. My experience with loss has shaped who I am and what I want to do. I want to pursue a career in theater design, but more than that, I want to be the kind of person who sees others the way my brother saw me - fully, completely, and with love.

Being born in Guatemala and adopted into a white American family means that for most of my life, I’ve had to find my own way to understand and embrace my heritage. I was only a baby when I was adopted, and although I grew up in a loving home, I was often the only person in the room who looked like me. The one exception was my older brother who was also adopted from Guatemala, and just eleven months older than me. He wasn’t just my brother. He was the one person who truly understood what it felt like to hold two truths at once - to be Latino by birth, but raised in a culture that didn’t always reflect who we were. We clung to that shared identity as we grew up, giving each other the kind of unspoken understanding that made us feel less alone. When my brother passed away suddenly from an unexpected illness in 2023, my world changed. The grief of losing him was unbearable, but what hit even deeper was the sense of losing the only person who shared my heritage and my lived experience. For a while, I felt lost, like part of who I was had disappeared. But over time, I’ve found strength in honoring where we came from, and in continuing on a path that both of us dreamed about. We both dreamed of a future where we could make a difference by showing up fully as ourselves, and I am doing that for both of us now. For me, that future is in theater. Scenic and production design became my outlet. Theatre is my way to bring stories to life and make space for voices and perspectives that are too often overlooked. I’ve learned to use color, shape, and structure to evoke emotion and meaning, and I’ve worked hard in school and my community theater to grow as a designer and collaborator. Theater gave me purpose after loss, and I want to keep growing in college, so I can eventually work in professional theater and open doors for other underrepresented artists like me. Attending college isn’t just about me. It’s about my family, my culture, and my brother’s legacy. As a first-generation Guatemalan-American student, I want to break barriers and build something lasting. I carry my heritage with me, and I’m proud to be a young Latina artist ready to shape the world with heart, light, and vision.