Because of Noah, We Won’t Stay Silent
In November of 2021, my precious grandson Noah, a dedicated soldier and a big-hearted young man, died by suicide on an Army base in South Korea.
He was only 19. The grief following Noah’s death was bottomless, and the unanswered questions endless. What also followed was the discovery that Noah’s suicide was not an outlier — suicides among our active-duty service members are happening at a staggering rate; and yet, there is nearly no public awareness of this fact. It is only through bringing this tragic reality into the light that we can hope to affect the changes needed to save lives.
— Shosh Samuel-Siegel
Founder of Grieving Grandmothers of Military Suicide
Remembering Noah
A Life Defined by Kindness, Passion, and Service
Noah lived vibrantly. From childhood, he was empathic, curious about the world and the people in it, and constantly attuned to others’ well-being. He expressed care and concern for his elders, living and passed; his capacity to see the humanity in others would inform his relationships with strangers, and call him to deep friendships with those who would later honor him by acknowledging the unique connection Noah offered at times of joy and at times that were otherwise lonely.
Noah lived fully in his body, expressing himself through his talents as a musician, playing the French Horn and the trumpet, as a photographer, and as an athlete, just as he did through spontaneous displays of silliness and affection. He was big-hearted, generous, and supportive.
A well-groomed and sharp dresser, Noah did not shy away from donning an apron while working in the kitchen of the local pizza shop. Like most teenagers, he looked forward to earning enough to eventually be able to purchase his own car. Sadly, despite all his hard work, both as a civilian and as a US Army MP, this is a dream he would never be able to fulfill.
Noah was also a history buff who loved to learn about and share his knowledge of U.S. and world history. One of the things he looked forward to when he learned he would be stationed in South Korea was learning about Korea’s history, culture, and cuisine. And he did.
Noah is the grandson, grand-nephew, and great-grandson of veterans, including a Purple Heart recipient (WWII, European Theater); he was extremely proud of this heritage. At eight-years old, when I took Noah out to select fabric for his big-boy quilt, he immediately gravitated toward patriotic prints.
It was clear from a young age that Noah was a patriot, and, indeed, before leaving for Basic training, Noah got his first tattoo — an eagle — a symbol of his total and authentic commitment to his nation and its service.
This is not just a personal tragedy.
It’s a Public Failure.
A failure to provide our military members with the support they need. A failure to address the systemic struggles that leave too many feeling isolated and expendable. And, perhaps most painful of all, a failure to face this issue with the urgency it demands. How many more young, brave lives need to be lost before action is taken?
We cannot stay silent while these lives are reduced to statistics, and families like ours grieve in isolation. Silence has only perpetuated this crisis. We must shatter the stigma, demand better mental health care, and call for accountability from the systems and leaders who allow these tragedies to persist.
Noah was more than his uniform, more than his rank; he was a grandson, a friend, a light in our lives. His death is a searing reminder that much more must be done to protect those who protect us. This is a moment not just for awareness, but for action.
We owe it to Noah.
We owe it to every service member and every grieving family.
It’s time to demand change.
Lives depend on it.