Many of you know that Hugs for Heads was born out of love and loss. I started this journey to honor my dear friend, Denise Fuller Downes, by crocheting a special hat to help her feel beautiful during her brave, but ultimately tragic, battle with cancer. Since then, I have dedicated a large part of my life and this brand to supporting cancer warriors, their families, and the victims we’ve lost.

But there is another element of Hugs for Heads—another deeply personal chapter of my life—that I have kept quiet about until now.



It is time to share the story of my nephew, Michael, who took his own life on May 30, 2024.

Michael’s story is one of winding roads and steep, uphill battles. Born Cassandra, Michael spent most of his life knowing he was in the wrong body. His journey to find answers and live authentically as a man was not easy. He began his transition with nearly zero support from his immediate family, relying entirely on the chosen family he had built. In 2022, he was finally able to have his upper surgery. Seeing him show it off, comfortable in his own skin, was the happiest I had ever seen him. For a brief moment, the heavy clouds of his severe depression and anxiety seemed to lift.

But Michael was fighting a war on multiple fronts. In addition to his lifelong battle with mental illness, he suffered from physical health issues that resulted in grueling daily trips for dialysis and, eventually, a kidney transplant in 2023 (a kidney he lovingly named George). The immense stress of this journey put an unbearable strain on his marriage to his lifetime friend and greatest supporter. Ultimately, they decided that a divorce was the healthiest path forward.

That is when Michael moved in with me, my husband, my son, and my autistic stepson.

At first, we fell into a busy, comfortable rhythm. But the quiet moments were hard. The day before he moved in, I had picked him up from a mental health facility following a suicide attempt. I was constantly worried about his wellness. I tried everything I could to make him feel anchored; teaching him to crochet, playing games, taking him out to eat, and helping him untangle his finances and constant car repairs.

For a while, it seemed like he was finding his footing. He started going to the gym, getting stronger, and preparing for his EMT and firefighter physical exams—which he passed. He didn't always show his joy in the way you might expect, but I knew he was proud. We had a long talk where I made him promise never to hurt himself in my home and to always come to me when he was feeling down. I just started to accept that he might never be wired for "true" happiness, but he was safe.

Then came the darkest week of my life.

On Sunday, May 28, I received a text that my best friend, Gini, had lost her battle with cancer—the sixth friend I had lost to the disease in just three years. My heart shattered. My family and I spent the next 24 hours grieving and reminiscing. Michael stayed in his room, which wasn't uncommon for him. I knew he must have heard the news, but the only time I heard from him was to tell me he didn't need anything for dinner.

On Tuesday morning, I heard the kitchen door close as Michael left for work. He never came home.

After 48 agonizing hours of not knowing where he was, the police arrived. Michael had been found dead in his car in a local shopping plaza. His fight was over.

It has taken me two long years to process my feelings, to shed the guilt that plagues those left behind, and to block out the noise of ignorant comments. I want to be perfectly clear: Michael did not take his life because he was transgender. Michael did not take his life because he was gay. Michael took his life because he suffered from a severe mental illness, lacked a strong enough foundation of support in his early life, and was living a reality that required taking 15 to 30 prescription medications every single day.

I did not fully understand the daily, agonizing pain of being stuck in the wrong body. But I didn't need to understand it to support him. I made sure to always treat Michael as the man he was and to remind him how proud I was of him. In the end, he knew his destiny, and I believe he was at peace with his decision.

I was raised in a very dysfunctional environment, and because of that, my friends are my family. I do not care who you love, as long as you are loved back properly. I have many gay friends in my inner circle whom I love as family, and I staunchly support the LGBTQ+ community. The more I research and educate myself, the better I can advocate for the transgender community.

I do not support suicide, but I fiercely support the survivors and the victims of it.

To honor Michael, and to bridge the gap between all the communities I love and fight for, I have designed a new collection of bracelets for the Hugs for Heads boutique and www.hugsforheads.com.

We now proudly offer designs for Transgender Support, Pride, and Suicide Awareness, in addition to our cancer support lines.

If there is one thing I ask you to take away from Michael’s story, it is this: Do not speak out of ignorance. If you do not understand something or someone, seek out someone who does. Ask questions. Listen. Educate yourself. You never know whose life you might be saving.