Hello, my name is Amber Mylrea.
I lost my brother, Nathan William Mylrea, in 2019 to mental health struggles. He was only 25.
Growing up, Nathan and I had the usual “annoying little sister” and older brother relationship. He, like everyone in my family, felt like home—a safe and warm place. We had our ups and downs as a family, like everyone else, but it always felt normal.
Nathan began struggling with his mental health during the last four years of his life. He was constantly coming and going between his family and friends, experiencing very high highs and very low lows. Supporting Nathan was a battle because he would plead with us for help, but then push us away. Tough love didn’t work, and being overly loving and proactive didn’t either.
Between the paranoia, distrust, and his constant promises to get better, the hope felt never-ending but fragile.
When Nathan died, it ripped a hole in our family—a hole so indescribable, painful, and confusing.
The endless nights wondering if I did enough, or if I could have done something differently, maybe then he’d still be here. Maybe I wasn’t enough to keep him here on this earth.
The realization that he won’t be Uncle Nay to my kids or tell embarrassing stories at my wedding hits me every day.
The pain is constant and never goes away, but as a family, we hold him so close to us—with memories, stories, and a whole lot of what-ifs.
I miss you, Nathan, and I will forever.
Forever 25. 🧡
You don’t have to grieve alone 