This powerful story is authored by Erin Hawley and Angela Wiese. It is an honor that they would choose to share their family's story of profound loss but also of equally profound resiliency. As they share about their journey they invite each of us to consider how we can stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the fight for suicide awareness and prevention.
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We grew up in Kentucky as part of a large family of seven siblings, shaped by strong family ties and the values of love, resilience, and community. We're sisters—Angela Wiese and Erin Hawley—and while our paths in life have taken many turns, nothing could have prepared us for the personal losses that would define our journey. Those experiences led us to where we are now: committed to raising awareness around suicide, supporting others through grief, and advocating for meaningful change.
The Siblings: Mason, Erin Paige, and Ethan
In May 2015, Angela’s 19-year-old son, Mason, died by suicide on Mother’s Day weekend while on leave from the Navy Reserves. He had recently finished boot camp and was just beginning his military career. Mason was laid back, funny, and passionate about weightlifting. His death rocked our entire family to the core. We were completely unprepared for the tidal wave of grief that followed—and unaware of how deep and far-reaching suicide’s impact could be.
Less than a year after losing Mason, our father died suddenly due to complications from diabetes. Still reeling from Mason’s death, our family barely had the emotional capacity to process another devastating loss. Angela was trying to hold herself together while raising two surviving children—her youngest daughter, Erin Paige, who was just five at the time, and Ethan, a Junior in High School. We were unaware then of the increased suicide risk for those left behind after a suicide loss.
Ethan was especially close to Mason. After his big brother died, we saw him struggling. He sought comfort in fishing and being around friends, but slowly, we noticed him withdrawing from the things he once loved. Despite this, he still held hope—Angela and Ethan had started touring colleges together, planning for his future.
But just 23 months after Mason’s death, we faced another unimaginable tragedy: Ethan died by suicide at 18, only a few weeks before his high school graduation. Losing two sons in less than two years was crushing. We needed to understand more. We needed community. We needed resources.
That search led us to TAPS (Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors), a nonprofit organization supporting those grieving the death of a military loved one. We attended a TAPS seminar specifically focused on suicide loss, surrounded by hundreds of others navigating the same painful path. It was a transformative, heart-wrenching experience.
We listened to stories, watched children in Good Grief Camps learning to live with their losses, and began to realize how large this invisible crisis really is—especially in military communities, where suicide remains a leading cause of death.
In 2019, we turned our grief into action. We founded the Brothers’ Run Foundation to raise awareness around mental health and support suicide prevention and postvention efforts in our community. We didn’t have a blueprint, but we had a vision: no “red tape,” just real support for people and programs doing life-saving work.
Each year, we host a 3K event in Angela’s hometown of Versailles, Kentucky. What began as a local effort has grown into something truly powerful. Since 2019, we’ve raised over $300,000 to reinvest into our community. More importantly, our event has become a safe space—where survivors can say their loved ones’ names out loud without fear or shame.
At one of our TAPS events, we connected with Stop Soldier Suicide, a nonprofit dedicated to ending military suicide. Angela learned about their Black Box Project, which conducts forensic analysis on digital devices to gain insights that might help prevent future losses.
Angela chose to loan Mason’s phone and laptop to the project. That decision wasn’t easy. By that time, she had lost both of her sons—and every item connected to them had become precious. But with reassurance from the team at Stop Soldier Suicide, she took the leap.
“I wanted Mason’s death to matter. If analyzing his data could help save another life, then it was worth it,” Angela says. “For me, it was more than forensics—it was a way to keep his story alive in service of others.”
Despite all we had learned, our family would face yet another tragedy in 2021 when Erin’s 13-year-old daughter, Myra, died by suicide.
Myra was the third of Erin’s four children. She loved reading, candy, and absolutely lived up to her nickname, Mischievous Myra. She was a straight-A student, played club volleyball since the age of 8, and filled the house with energy and joy. Her death was shocking, devastating, and for a long time, impossible to accept.
When she died, the whole family was home. Erin and Jordan did everything they could—performing CPR until EMS arrived—but nothing could undo the loss. Some moments from that night will stay with us forever: Jordan on the couch, crying, “I just want her back,” and Erin, repeating their address over and over on the phone with 911 until the responder said, “We’ve got you. Help is on the way.”
That same unbearable urgency replayed for Angela—racing to reach Mason when she knew something was wrong, and later, trying to revive Ethan. Even the smallest gestures, like Erin Paige handing her brother a glass of water in a desperate attempt to help—those moments never leave you.
Why did this happen to our children? We will never know, as suicide is a perfect storm of events. But the one thing we do know about our children is that they were unable to express or share with us their thoughts and feelings of suicide.
Our children were like everyone else’s—smart, loving, headstrong, and full of potential.
That’s why we speak. That’s why we share. That’s why we continue our work with Brothers’ Run and support organizations like Stop Soldier Suicide
In 2024, our 3K event had 867 registered participants—our biggest turnout yet. What began in grief has grown into a movement of compassion, connection, and action.
We do this in honor of the children we’ve lost to suicide—Mason, Ethan, and Myra—but just as importantly, we do it for our nieces and nephews and our surviving children: Erin, Clara, Malcolm, Samantha, and her husband Cole, ensuring their futures are filled with hope and support.