The worst news of my life came while I was sitting on a stool in science class in front of a Bunsen burner. I vividly recall my phone screen lighting up with phone call after phone call, but not answering them because of the dangerous chemicals in the fire in front of me, ironic, isn't it? Then a text begs me to answer my phone. Then another, "Please. It's Jaydin." And then I knew. I suppose at thirteen years old, you would not expect someone to commit suicide. They're too young, too full of life, too innocent. I knew differently as soon as I saw that one, heartbreaking, terrifying message; I understood that one of my best friends had died.
He was the kind of person to make practice lighter. He was funny, always joking, and playing around in the middle of practice. He was kind and caring, yet had the knack for getting into trouble. He was also a strong swimmer, someone I respected as a teammate and as a person. Nothing about him was fragile. Nothing suggested that he was struggling in a way that would lead to something so permanent.
When I found out, I was shocked, but painfully aware of the weight of the news. I lost control of my emotions, tears spilled out of my eyes, and my body lost control and slid toward the floor. I cried until there were no tears, and then I lay quietly as every memory I had with him painfully etched its way into mere memories.
In the days, weeks, and months that followed, I tried to move forward as if everything were normal. I showed up to practice, went to class, and acted like everything was fine. I told myself that the best way to get through this was to pretend it didn't exist. In reality, I was bottling everything up. The grief, confusion, and the questions I couldn't answer all lingered in my mind until they turned into their own form of anxiety and depression. I didn't know how to process what had happened, and I struggled to understand, "why?"
That question doesn't have an answer. Even now, as I write this, I try to understand the thoughts that went through his head, I try to formulate answers, and rewrite what is already carved into stone. I eventually opened up to my coaches, and they became a support system. They reminded me that there is no clear reason, and I cannot make sense of something like this. Learning to live without that answer was challenging, but it was also necessary for me to begin healing.
Swimming became complicated. It was impossible to be in the water without thinking of him, without noticing his absence in my lane. It felt easier to avoid it altogether. But at the same time, it was even harder to stay away. The pool is my community, where people understand what I was going through without needing words. Being there, even on the hardest days, became how I coped.
Even now, his presence remains. There is still a dry-erase board on the pool deck with a doodle he drew years ago. Next to it, someone added a flower and the date of his death. Every time I see it, I remember how much he meant to our team. It is hard to look at, but it is also a reminder that he is not forgotten.
Through this experience, I came to understand mental health more closely. I realized how easy it is for someone to hide their struggles, even from those closest to them. My friend was someone I saw every day, yet I never saw the depth of what he was carrying. That realization changed how I interact with others. I no longer take "I'm fine" at face value. I check on people with more intention, ask deeper questions, and pay attention to what people say and what they don't say. I have learned that presence matters, that listening without trying to fix things can make people feel less alone. This shift has strengthened my relationships and the kind of person I strive to be: someone who sees, who listens, and who cares enough to act.
Without my faith, I would not have been able to process this loss. I have always seen the importance of compassion, service, and dignity. During this time, my faith became something I leaned on more intentionally. While I may never understand why my friend's life ended the way it did, my faith helped me to respond with empathy, love, and a commitment to support those I care about.
This loss has shaped my future goals. I have always wanted to pursue a career in medicine, but now I have a stronger understanding of what that responsibility means. I want to be a doctor who sees more than just physical symptoms. I want to treat the whole person, their mental health, their emotional well-being, and the challenges they don't share. Too often, mental health is overlooked or separated from physical care. I have seen firsthand how interconnected they are.
Losing my friend changed the way I see the world. It made me more aware of the silent struggles people carry and the importance of approaching others with compassion. It also challenged me to confront my own mental health, to seek support, and to become someone others can rely on. While the loss will always be a part of me, it has also shaped me into a more empathetic and resilient person.
I cannot change what happened, and I will probably never fully understand it. But I can choose how I move forward. I can choose to listen more closely, care more deeply, and use my experiences to make a difference in the lives of others.