As Father's Day has passed and Men's Mental Health Awareness Month continues, Walt has been on my mind.

 

I think about the father he never became, the years he never lived, and all that was left undone. I think about the countless men and boys whose lives ended too soon, and the families, friends, and communities forever changed by their loss.

 

And I find myself asking a question I cannot stop asking.

 

 

According to the CDC, nearly 80 percent of those who die by suicide in the United States are men.

 

What troubles me most is not the statistic itself. It is that we have been grappling with this challenge for generations.

 

For more than a century, suicide has remained a persistent public health challenge. We have made progress in many areas of mental health. More people seek help. More people share their stories. More conversations are taking place. Yet when it comes to suicide deaths, the progress has not been nearly enough

.

Stigma has slowed conversations. Research has lagged behind many other areas of medicine. While awareness has grown, we still have far more to learn about why some people reach a point where emotional pain becomes unbearable and, more importantly, what truly helps people heal.

 

That should give all of us pause.

 

 

For me, this question is both academic and personal. Through our work at Walt's Waltz, I have spent years learning from researchers, clinicians, educators, people with lived experience, and families whose lives have been forever changed by suicide.

 

Over the years, I have listened to people from all walks of life. Their stories, backgrounds, and circumstances may differ, yet the heartbreak is often the same. The same empty chair. The same future that should have been.

 

As I have listened, I have often wondered whether we are asking the right questions. We know more about mental health than we did twenty-five years ago. We talk about it more openly. We have more treatment options, more resources, more awareness, and more conversations. Yet the outcome has not changed nearly enough.

 

Families are still experiencing the same heartbreak.

 

Not who is to blame. Not which explanation is correct. But why, despite all we have learned, are we still losing so many people?

 

Perhaps part of what troubles me most is that the answers are rarely simple. If they were, we would have solved this by now. Yet we are still losing far too many people.

 

What I do know is that human beings need connection.

 

Many men are lonely. Many have acquaintances but few close friends. Many carry burdens they rarely discuss. Many have been taught to solve problems rather than share them. Many are suffering quietly while appearing fine on the outside.

 

A recent CDC survey found that more than 40 percent of American adults know someone who has died by suicide. That is not a small number. It is a reminder that suicide reaches far beyond the individual. It affects families, friends, coworkers, classmates, and entire communities.

 

Research suggests the impact of one suicide creates a ripple effect, touching the lives of at least 135 people in the community. Image, entire families, workplaces, schools, neighborhoods, and communities carry that loss.

 

For those of us who have lost someone to suicide, the cost of inaction is painfully clear. We cannot bring back the people we have lost. But we can continue searching for answers. We can continue listening, learning, supporting research, reducing stigma, and reducing suffering. We can continue building communities where people feel seen, heard, valued, and connected.

 

Despite everything we still do not know, I remain hopeful.

 

I have seen people share their stories for the first time. I have watched communities begin conversations they once avoided. I have seen young people support one another, and I have watched parents, educators, healthcare professionals, coaches, faith leaders, employers, and advocates come together because they believe we can do better.

 

Progress may not be happening as quickly as any of us would like, but every conversation matters. Every act of kindness matters. Every person willing to listen matters.

 

 

Celebrate the men who have shaped your life. And if you have the opportunity to shape someone else's life, take it.

 

If a parent, grandparent, caregiver, teacher, coach, friend, or neighbor reaches out and asks you to connect with someone who may be struggling, consider saying yes. It takes courage to ask for help. It also takes courage to ask for help on behalf of someone else.

 

Sometimes what someone needs most is a conversation, a friendship, a mentor, or simply someone willing to listen.

 

Sometimes a conversation does not change everything. But sometimes it changes more than we will ever know.

 

Mentorship matters.

Friendship matters.

Showing up matters.

 

Let us remember the boys and men who may be struggling quietly. Let us continue asking difficult questions, supporting one another, and searching for better answers.

 

Because tens of thousands of suicide deaths each year should not be acceptable to any of us.

 

Our search for better answers must continue. Researchers around the world are studying genetics, inflammation, sleep, loneliness, social connection, trauma, and many other factors in hopes of better understanding suicide and saving more lives.

 

If you would like to continue learning with us, I invite you to visit the Walt's Waltz Mental Health Moonshot Research Library at www.waltswaltz.com.

 

 

Let's stop dancing around mental health conversations.