There are no words that can fully capture the heartbreak of losing a child, but we write this in honor of our beloved son, Trey - whose smile lit up rooms, whose laughter was infectious, and whose presence left an imprint on everyone who knew him.
Trey left us far too soon, on the 30th of October 2022, in a way that shattered our world. He died by suicide—words we never thought we would have to say, and a reality we never dreamed we would have to face.

Trey was many things—cheeky, funny, kind, bright, and full of life. He wore his mask so well. To most people, and even to us at times, he seemed to be doing okay. He could joke, charm, and make you feel like everything was just fine. But behind that beautiful smile, our boy was struggling in silence.
In hindsight, we now recognize the small signs—subtle shifts in mood, moments of withdrawal—but at the time, it was so hard to see through the strength of the face he showed the world. We had our worries, our quiet concerns that maybe something wasn't quite right, but we never imagined the pain he was carrying was so deep. We never imagined it could end this way.

Trey’s death has taught us that mental health does not always look like what we expect. That even the happiest, most vibrant souls can be hiding their deepest pain. And that silence can be both a shield and a prison.
We miss him every moment. There’s an ache that lives in our hearts now—a space that will never be filled. We miss his jokes, his energy, the way he could light up every room. We miss his hugs. We miss the future we thought we’d have with him.
But more than anything, we wish he had known that he didn’t have to carry it alone. That he didn’t have to be okay all the time. That we loved him unconditionally and always would, no matter what.

If there is one message we want to share from our unimaginable loss, it is this: Talk. Ask. Listen. And never assume someone is okay just because they say they are. Let’s break the silence, break the stigma, and create space for honesty—especially when it’s hard.
If sharing his story can help even one child feel less alone, if it can encourage one family to have a difficult but life-saving conversation, if it can bring support to one young person struggling behind their own mask—then we know his light still shines.

This charity is our way of honouring Trey. Of loving him loudly. Of fighting for the kids who are still here, who still have a chance to be seen, heard, and helped.
To anyone reading this: check in with your children, your friends, your family. Not just once—often. Don’t wait for obvious signs. Don’t assume silence means safety. Ask the hard questions. Sit with the uncomfortable truths. Be their safe space.

Trey was deeply loved. He is deeply loved. And through this charity, through every life touched by his story, we will carry him forward.