Help Lay Blake to Rest & Support After Tragic Loss

On June 9th, 2025, I lost my husband, Blake, to suicide.

Blake had been in a dark place for a while—struggling with trauma, sobriety, financial instability, and the weight of one hardship after another. What led to this was a long, painful series of events that took a deep toll on his spirit, his health, and ultimately, his will to keep going.

It all began when we were nearly hit by a reckless driver in a parking garage. The driver got out and escalated the situation, eventually stabbing Blake five times while Blake was trying to protect me. He suffered a punctured lung, a wounded collarbone, and a liver injury—one stab came dangerously close to his heart. We got him to the hospital in time, and he survived. But everything changed after that moment.

While Blake was recovering, he lost his job. That quickly led to us being evicted, and we ended up living week-to-week in a motel. The support systems we reached out to offered little to no help during this time. To make matters worse, the man who attacked Blake was released shortly after the incident. The case has been pending for nearly two years now, with a court date still on the horizon—leaving us without closure or justice.

Then his beloved dog, Belini, became partially paralyzed after ingesting something she shouldn’t have—another emotional and financial blow for Blake.

Blake became increasingly paranoid that his attacker would come after us again. He was battling PTSD, anxiety, and severe depression. After the motel became too expensive, we tried to live in an old RV he found, hoping for stability—but no RV park would take us due to its age. A man finally offered space on his property, but it turned into a nightmare. We were locked out of basic amenities, charged more each month, and even found out the man was entering the RV without our knowledge. We had to leave, abandoning the RV in a Walmart parking lot because no storage company would take it.

Eventually, we found a small place to live in a rough neighborhood—the only thing we could afford. It wasn’t safe, and Blake would walk me to my car because of a few scary run-ins I had. Just as things settled slightly, I got news that my mother in Hawaii had lost her battle with ALS. The grief just kept piling up.

Blake still couldn’t find stable work but kept trying. During one side gig, he rescued a severely abused dog, Frankie, who became a part of our little family. Blake adored him and nursed him back to health, despite everything else we were going through.

But the pain caught up to him. He started gambling and slipping back into substance abuse. Depression, addiction, financial hardship, and grief all weighed heavily on our marriage. One day, during an episode, he left the dogs unattended. I came home to find that our senior chihuahua had been attacked by the others. She spent 10 days in the hospital and ultimately lost a leg. That broke Blake even more.

He tried everything he could think of to help, to raise money, to fix what felt unfixable—but he kept running into dead ends. Attorney fees, debt, failed job searches, substance abuse, and emotional isolation pushed him to the edge. He told me often that he felt like no one cared.

And then… he was gone.

Through everything, Blake and I never stopped loving each other. We may have been overwhelmed, hurting, and sometimes distant—but that love never left. We cared deeply for one another, and no matter how dark things became, we still tried. We just didn’t always know how.

Now, I’m left to face everything alone: the grief, the trauma, the expenses, and most immediately—trying to lay Blake to rest with dignity. I’m setting up this GoFundMe not just to cover funeral and burial costs, but also to catch up on everything that’s hit me all at once.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you knew Blake, please remember the full version of him: the kind-hearted man who would do anything for his dogs, who tried to be strong through the storm, who had moments of light even in his darkness.

If you’re able to support in any way, I’m deeply grateful. If you can’t give, please share or keep us in your thoughts. And most of all, please—check in on the people around you. The ones who seem like they’re “just getting by” may be carrying more than they can handle.

Thank you for helping me through this unimaginable moment.