Andy had been my friend for almost my entire life. He dated my sister for years and was like a brother to me. He’s the one who got me into cars. I learned how to drive in his Chevy Blazer when I was just twelve. I went on dates with my future wife in that car. It was more than just a vehicle—it was a part of our story.
After Andy died by suicide, I found myself needing something to hold on to. Something tangible. So, I bought a Blazer just like his. It was my way of staying connected to a piece of him that I couldn’t let go of yet.
Eight months later, we lost Nathan, my daughter Emy’s friend. She had known him since elementary school. They reconnected in eighth grade, just a few months before he took his own life. I watched her crumble under the weight of grief and confusion.
One day, she came to me, tears running down her face. “Dad, people have already stopped talking about him. It’s like he never existed. We have to do something.”
So we did.
We tossed around the idea of baseball tournaments. Car rallies. Fundraisers. Awareness events. We didn’t want Nathan to be forgotten. We didn’t want anyone else to feel alone in this grief.
That’s when the idea for the suicide awareness car build was born. Not to win shows—but to start conversations. To bring hope.
We worked with a local designer, and by the grace of God, doors opened. Vivid Wraps got involved and were phenomenal. The day the designer finished our meeting, he learned his cousin had died by suicide. Another person on the team was already in therapy for suicidal thoughts. The connections were everywhere. The pain was shared.
Wrapping on the Blazer includes hand-selected Bible verses about hope, purpose and peace. We want people to ask about them, to be curious. Because the Word is the seed. All it needs is soil.
Talking about suicide is hard. I’ve been going to funerals since I was a kid—my dad’s a preacher—but nothing prepared me for this. As a society, we’ve avoided these conversations for too long. But the healing starts with a conversation.
If our story—this Blazer—can bring hope to one, it’s all worth it.
You are not alone.
You are loved.
You are seen.
Jessica story on Nathan Metcalf Lawrenceburg, IN
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