By Alexander Hill
It was a typical Florida afternoon, the sky heavy with the promise of rain. The air was thick and humid, a prelude to the impending downpour. I walked outside after checking in at the Steinbrenner Band Hall and scanned the crowd of unfamiliar faces on the first day of preseason marching band camp at the University of Florida. That’s when I saw someone holding the same instrument as me — a baritone. Not knowing anyone in the baritone section, I decided to approach him.
“Hey, I’m Alex. Mind if I join you?” I asked, trying to sound casual. He looked up, a friendly smile spreading across his face. “Sure, I’m Nate.” From that moment, we clicked. Nate was the first person I had met outside of my high school and hometown, and we quickly became friends.
Campus life settled into a routine: Waking up early for class, practicing in the scorching sun during rehearsals and cheering on the football team on Saturdays. The semester’s grind was relentless, but having Nate around made it bearable, as he would always find the best in every situation.
He was passionate about climbing and often talked about going to The Knot, a rock-climbing gym in Gainesville, and his late-night adventures, where he would climb stop buildings on campus and capture breathtaking photos from the rooftops. His stories were always filled with excitement and a sense of freedom that I admired.
Fast-forward to spring break. The Gator Marching Band had the incredible opportunity to play in St. Patrick’s Day parades in Ireland. Nate and I roomed together as we traveled through the picturesque countryside. One evening, as I was clinging to the last minutes of wakefulness, Nate confided in me. “I feel alone,” he said quietly. Despite my fatigue, I did my best to console him, and believing I had done a good job, I fell asleep. Looking back, I noticed scars on Nate’s arms before the trip. When I asked, he claimed they were burn marks from his job as a line chef at a local restaurant. His explanation seemed plausible, given how much he talked about his demanding job.
A week after returning from Ireland, I was at my desk, working on a final essay for my history class, when I received a notification from our group chat. One of our section leaders had sent a message: Nate had died the day before. My heart plummeted to the bottom of my stomach, and I must have read the text a dozen times because I could not wrap my head around it. Shock and confusion washed over us as we had so many unanswered questions. How did he pass away? Why did he die? A few days later, I received a call from Nate’s parents. They told me that Nate had died by suicide and not to place any blame myself, as no one had known about his internal struggles.
At his celebration of life, we shared our favorite memories of Nate. A common theme emerged: his unwavering positivity and ability to see the best in every situation and person. Nate’s legacy was one of kindness and resilience, a reminder of the importance of reaching out and supporting one another.
After first hearing the news, and every year on the anniversary of his death, Nate’s friends and I gather at the top of the TAPS parking garage. The first time we did this, there was a heavy silence that lingered for a good 30 minutes as we were still in shock, grappling with the suddenness of his absence. It felt surreal to be together without him, as if we were waiting for him to show up with that same infectious smile.
Eventually, someone broke the silence with a story — something small, like a joke Nate had cracked during practice — and slowly, more memories followed. Laughter mixed with tears as we shared our favorite moments: his quick wit, his kindness, the way he always knew how to make everyone feel included. It became our way of keeping him with us, even if only for a little while. And every year, though the silence never entirely goes away, the memories help heal the part of us that still misses him.
Nate’s story is a poignant reminder of the daily hidden battles many face. Mental health is an issue that affects us all, and it’s vital to be supportive of those around us. Suicide is the second leading cause of death among college students. Additionally, 3.2% of college students attempt suicide each year, 22.3% experience suicidal ideation and 38.9% engage in non-suicidal self-injury, according to a 2022 study. Only 22% of students who screened positive for clinical depression received minimally adequate treatment. Educate yourself on the signs and symptoms of mental health conditions and take proactive steps to offer support. Share vital resources like hotlines, counseling services and support groups. Even a simple conversation can have a profound impact. Remember, seeking help is a sign of strength, and offering help can be lifesaving. Together, we can build a community where everyone feels supported, valued and understood. Let’s honor Nate’s legacy by being there for each other and promoting mental health awareness.
Alexander Hill is a third-year public health major.
“My public health story” essays originated from an assignment on public health storytelling for a public health messaging and dissemination course led by Brittney Dixon-Daniel, Ph.D., M.P.H., director of the Bachelor of Public Health program.