When I heard about the end of Grayson Murray’s life the other day, the emotion that hit me was the same emotion that hit a whole lot of other people: sadness.
The 30-year-old professional golfer died by suicide last week after withdrawing from a PGA Tour event in Texas. I knew of Murray, but I didn’t know him. I’d heard about his battles with alcohol and depression, heard him talk after his victory at the Sony Open in Hawaii earlier this year about the fight he had fought through painful periods when he saw himself as a failure. He mentioned the need for courage and a willingness to fight on.
We’re talking about a man here who was one of the best golfers in a world full of them. A world full of hackers and ambitious players who could only dream, try as they might, to ever strike a ball as pure as he did. If golf is a game that can’t be won, only played, Murray played it exceedingly well. He’d taken trophies twice on tour, and, yes, at one point he lost his card, but worked his way through wins on the Korn Ferry Tour to emerge again at the game’s top level.
Mental illness didn’t care about any of that, not Murray’s talent, nor his achievements, not the future that seemed so bright. At one juncture, Murray said he considered himself a “waste of talent.”
Yeah, mental illness can be a tough, cruel mother that twists the truth, tangles it into an outlook that real as it seems to the afflicted is wickedly distorted. I’m no expert on the subject. I do not know every detail that led to Murray’s suffering, nor do I pretend to know the ins and outs of that suffering.
But I have known and loved people who have suffered the ravages of mental illness in a profound way, and mourned the loss of one who died by suicide. When he did, I wept at his grave, alongside others who loved him, too.
And there were many others.
And there are many, many others, again, who love and mourn friends and family members, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, moms and dads, who also fall into the darkness that mental illness can stir. It afflicts the old, the young, the capable, the less capable, the extroverted, the introverted, the loud, the quiet, the gregarious, the solemn, the intelligent, the less intelligent, those who carry so much promise, promise so obvious to those around them, but that they themselves cannot quite draw into focus.
The man I knew seemed to have everything — a loving wife, fantastic kids, a great career and success in his business pursuits, more money than he’d ever need, and an attitude of service toward the people around him that endeared him to darn near everyone. He was a man of faith, generous with his time and his means, and he was one of the smartest humans I’ve ever met.
Depression took none of that into account.
There are always warning signs, just as there are ways to get the needed support.
But I talked with him not long before his death, and he mentioned that pain not once, no matter how many inquiries were made about it. I utilized every interview method I had ever learned to get bits of information from him, about him. He said he was all good. Instead, he wanted to know how I was doing, how my family was doing, how work was going, how everything else was going.
Three days later, he was gone.
I badly miss him, as do so many others.
Suicide is a leading cause of death in the United States. The most recent data from the CDC indicates that suicide is the second-leading cause of death in Utah among 10- to 24-year-olds. It’s the second-leading cause of death in Utah among 25- to 34-year-olds. It’s the second-leading cause of death in Utah among 35- to 44-year-olds. It affects all age groups.
The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention states on its website that “46 percent of communities did not have enough mental health providers to serve residents in 2023, according to federal guidelines.”
It’s no stretch to say the country, in general, and Utah, specifically, can do better, must do better than it’s currently doing in this serious regard. Grayson Murray was originally from North Carolina, but maybe his tragic end can bring further awareness to a public health crisis that must be better addressed by those in positions of power and by all of us.
We need more mental health professionals, more funding, more access to help, more awareness on everyone’s part. May, after all, is National Mental Health Awareness Month.
A famous quote I’ve run across multiple times in the last week was spoken by Robin Williams, the brilliant comedian who died by suicide in 2014: “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.”
And if you have had thoughts about suicide, feeling some measure of loneliness or depression or hopelessness, reach out for help. It’s there, or it should be made to be there, in numbers equal to the problem and pain at hand.
Editor’s note • If you or people you know are at risk of self-harm, the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline provides free 24-hour support by calling 988.
