Today marks ten years since Jae took his life.

In some ways it feels impossible that a decade has passed. Time moves forward whether we’re ready or not. Kids grow up. Seasons change. Life keeps moving.

And yet, in other ways, it doesn’t feel like ten years at all.

There is still a hole.

Anyone who has lost someone to suicide knows exactly what I mean. The world keeps going, but there are certain days that stop you in your tracks. Anniversaries. Birthdays. Holidays. The moments that were supposed to be shared together.
Those days can be heavy.

Today I find myself thinking not only about Jae, but about the thousands of families who carry that same kind of hole in their lives. People who are navigating grief quietly. Parents, siblings, spouses, teammates, and friends who are learning how to keep living while holding onto someone they love.

One of the things time has taught me is that grief doesn’t really disappear. It just changes shape. Some days it’s quiet. Some days it’s loud. But it’s always there because love was there first.

That is a big part of why the Jae Foundation exists.

We want people who are hurting to know they are not alone. We want families walking through loss to find healing. We want conversations about mental health to happen earlier, louder, and with more compassion.

Ten years later, I still wish Jae were here. I still wonder about the life he would be living today. But I’m also incredibly grateful for the community that has come together to turn pain into purpose.

If today is a hard day for you because you’ve lost someone too, please know we are thinking of you.
And if you’re struggling right now, please don’t carry it alone. Reach out to someone. A friend. A counselor. A teammate. A family member.

Connection can save lives.

Thank you for walking alongside us in this mission to create hope and a future for others.

It’s Boot-Check Time!