Warning: This contains mentions of suicide that may be triggering to some readers.

A Lifelong Love of Athletics

My husband Tim was an athlete long before I met him. Even after his playing days were over, sports remained the heartbeat of his life.

Tim played hockey, baseball, and football, dedicating himself fully to each sport. The latter two carried him through college at Massachusetts Maritime Academy, and he went on to play semi-professional football after graduating. Athletics weren’t just games to him; they meant discipline, identity, brotherhood, and passion.

After Tim’s competitive years, he never stepped away from the grind. He served as an umpire, referee, and coach in both baseball and football. He poured his heart out and shared his knowledge with every young athlete who came his way, continuing his lifelong love for sports while mentoring the next generation. The field was where he felt most alive.

A Changing Relationship

I met Tim in 2020 and we were married in 2022. He was smart, deeply kind, and protective of the people he loved. His gregarious personality was only surpassed by an even bigger heart.

In 2021, Tim began experiencing seizures which occurred almost monthly for the following two years. On May 30, 2023, he had four seizures in a row, and I rushed him to our nearest emergency room. After being admitted, Tim underwent CT scans, MRIs and sleep studies, but we were never given clear answers as to the cause of these seizures. His medications were adjusted multiple times until they found one that helped. They didn’t stop entirely but became less frequent, about once every five months.

In November of 2024, some of Tim’s symptoms started getting worse, including paranoia, anxiety, and changes in his thinking. What had been subtle became more pronounced. I made the difficult decision to move out, but only seven minutes away, so I could be close if he needed me. We remained connected, speaking every day and seeing each other weekly.

In August of 2025, we recommitted to working on our marriage, but Tim’s mental health declined rapidly and made that a challenge. Along with his paranoia and anxiety, he also developed auditory hallucinations and fell into a deep depression. In October, Tim was involuntarily admitted to a behavioral health hospital and diagnosed with bipolar disorder and OCD. He was prescribed Prozac and antipsychotic medications, but nothing seemed to help. He was hospitalized once again in November, with his treatments being stopped and adjusted.

For a little while, Tim seemed stable. Then we had to say goodbye to his dog, Cali. Her declining heart condition led to the heartbreaking decision to end her life. That loss deeply affected him, and his depression intensified.

Tim was admitted a final time in January 2026 and discharged himself shortly after. Over the following weeks, he struggled profoundly. I tried to offer him hope: plans for me to move back in, getting a new puppy, rebuilding our life together. But toward the end, he withdrew from much of the world and isolated himself.

Suspecting CTE and Tim’s Lasting Legacy

Yet even then, Tim and I spoke every day. We continued seeing each other every week. I knew the man I loved was still there. He was fighting something heavier than any of us could see.

Tim often told me he suspected he had CTE. After one particularly severe seizure, he told me he wanted his brain donated to research. He wanted clarity; if not for himself, then for others.

The man Tim was at the end of his life did not resemble his true self. Tim was intelligent, funny, loving, and loyal. He was an athlete, coach, mentor, son, brother, uncle, godfather, stepfather, and my wonderful husband. Tim’s years of suffering do not define him. What he leaves behind is his dedication, unwavering passion, and warm heart.

Tim ultimately took his own life on February 10, 2026, at the age of 47. After his passing, I fulfilled his wish and donated Tim’s brain to the UNITE Brain Bank where it is currently under study.

By sharing Tim’s story, I hope to honor who he was and contribute to a greater understanding of how repeated head trauma impacts brain health and other behavior. If his donation can help bring clarity, awareness, or healing to another family, I know he’d be so proud to have this be part of his lasting legacy.

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Suicide is preventable and help is available. If you are concerned that someone in your life may be suicidal, the five #BeThe1To steps are simple actions anyone can take to help someone in crisis. If you are struggling to cope and would like some emotional support, call the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 to connect with a trained counselor. It’s free, confidential, and available to everyone in the United States. You do not have to be suicidal to call.

Are you or someone you know struggling with lingering concussion symptoms? We support patients and families through the Concussion & CTE Foundation HelpLine providing personalized help to those struggling with the outcomes of brain injury. Submit your request today and a dedicated member of our team will be happy to assist you.