He grew from a boy with distant horizons in his eyes into a man who learned to shape entire worlds with a glance, a line, a hesitant smile. On set, he was the one who remembered your big audition, who asked how your mother was doing, who stayed late to run scenes so you wouldn’t feel alone. Fame never quite caught up to the size of his heart, and now the gap between who he was and how briefly he was here feels unbearable.
Those who loved him are left replaying small, ordinary moments, searching for signs they missed and words they wish they’d said. Out of their grief comes a plea that refuses to stay quiet: your pain is not an inconvenience, your life is not negotiable. If the darkness feels louder than everything else, reach for a voice, a door, a number. In the United States, you can call or text 988 for confidential support, any time, day or night.
