“I reached over to remove the gun from my son’s mouth.”
My friend spoke those words to explain why she was participating in the annual Walk Out of Darkness event.
“The next morning, I checked him into in-patient services,” she added. With therapy and medication, he is no longer in crisis. Half the combat Marines in his unit did not have that lifeline.
At the walk, we heard others telling stories of their loved ones. Some end in survival, others in heartbreak. People wear colored beads to show their connection: white for the loss of a child, red for a spouse, gold for a parent, orange for a sibling, purple for a friend, silver for first responder or military, green for a personal attempt. Many wore more than one strand. Each time the colors were called, they lifted another necklace into the air, a silent testimony to how deeply suicide has cut across our lives.
Where We Stand
Wyoming has lived with the painful reality of leading the nation in suicide rates. The people most at risk are often the very ones who shoulder the heaviest loads: veterans who carry invisible wounds, first responders who absorb trauma shift after shift, young Native Americans struggling with isolation, and rural men who feel they have nowhere to turn.
Geography makes help harder to reach. In small towns and on ranches hours from the nearest city, counseling services are scarce. Even when they are available, stigma keeps too many people silent. In Wyoming, we pride ourselves on grit and independence.
Asking for help can feel like weakness. In truth, it takes courage to speak up.
What’s Being Done
The state has begun to take steps. The legislature established the Wyoming iteration of the 988 Suicide Crisis Lifeline, creating a trust to keep it going. That means when someone in Wyoming calls 988, they are far more likely to reach a counselor who understands our people and our place. There are also pilot programs focused on law enforcement, emergency medical services, and youth.
Local communities are stepping forward too. Survivor outreach teams respond after a suicide to comfort families and connect them with resources. QPR training—Question, Persuade, Refer—is being offered to teachers, Rotary clubs, and community groups so more of us can recognize the signs and guide someone to help. These are lifelines woven close to home.
What’s Still Needed
Even with progress, gaps remain. Rural and tribal areas need more consistent, culturally appropriate care. Funding for 988 is critical, and it is insufficient for long term sustainability. Prevention requires follow-up, long-term counseling, and support that meets people where they are. We need to normalize conversation around suicide so it is not whispered about but spoken of plainly, like any other health condition.
We also need leaders and neighbors who will stand up against stigma. For too long, silence has been the easy default. The cost of that silence has been measured in lives.
What You Can Do
Here’s where each of us can make a difference. You can attend or support an Out of the Darkness walk in your county. You can bring QPR training to your workplace or community club. You can learn the number 988 and make sure those around you know it too. You can back local efforts in schools, veterans’ halls, and service organizations.
Most of all, you can talk. If you see someone struggling, ask the hard question. If you are the one struggling, tell someone you trust. If you have lost a loved one, share their story. Each conversation chips away at the weight of stigma. Each connection reminds us that none of us stands alone.
Closing Reflection
We have all been affected by the lives lost because silence prevailed. Yet even as the state has created a trust fund to sustain the 988 Lifeline, it was filled at only a fraction of what experts said was needed. A promise made at 25 percent leaves too many gaps unfilled.
If we stop here, we risk letting silence take a toll once again. That cannot be acceptable. Speaking out, supporting each other, and pressing for full and lasting resources are the steps that honor those we’ve lost.
We cannot let silence win.
